


Fragments of Silver

by Dragon_MoonX



Series: Silver & Gold [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Wordcount: Over 100.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 109,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_MoonX/pseuds/Dragon_MoonX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the height of the second war, Violet Stregheria leaves home in search of her lost sister, but not long after her departure she is captured by a band of Snatchers. She now has more to worry about than just finding her sibling, but does she really want to escape the clutches of the seductive man who's holding her prisoner?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captured

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: please note that this story contains triggers for self-injury. Please do not read if it will trigger you. Please be safe.
> 
> I'd also like to add that in 2015 this story won for Best Plot In a MC on the Fan-Picked Fanfiction Awards held annually on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenge Forum.

Violet Stregheria had always been the reject in her family, or the "failure" as her mother often called her. Least loved by her mother because she rejected the notion that their family was better than others because they were pureblood. And now that the second war had begun, things in the Stregheria household had only gotten worse as Violet's mother proudly displayed her support of the Dark Lord and what he was doing as he gained control of the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts. The only person Violet had who actually cared about her was her younger sister Heather, who, for reasons unknown, had mysteriously disappeared two months ago.

Violet and Heather had always been very close, even though their views on Dumbledore and the war sometimes differed from time to time. The two sisters were practically inseparable. Even when they were apart they sent letters to each other with owls every week. But somewhere along the way something had gone wrong, and Violet had no idea what had happened to her sister or where she went.

It had started when Heather began leaving the house for long periods of time without telling anyone where she was going. She kept quiet about her actions, leaving everyone, even her older sister, in the dark about what she was doing.

At first she was gone only for a day or two, then those days became weeks, weeks with no communication between Heather and her sister. When asked about it Heather always offered up different reasons, reasons she'd carefully constructed that were believable enough that anyone asking what she was up to wouldn't question her further. At least not until she started leaving for days at a time.

To make matters worse, Violet's mother couldn't have cared less that one of her children was missing. Instead of being the caring and concerned parent that she should have been, she ignored the problem, not even wondering what happened to her youngest daughter.

She tried caring for her eldest daughter, telling her it would be alright, holding her, comforting her, doing all the things a mother should do for their child. But as the months slowly passed and Heather showed no signs of returning, Violet's worried concerns about her sibling started wearing on her nerves.

Her ability to comfort a crying child only went so far, and she eventually reached the point where she couldn't take anymore. Instead of helping Violet she turned on her own daughter, blaming her for Heather's disappearance.

"Heather probably left to get away from you," she told Violet, not bothering to hide the note of disgust in her voice as she spoke to her eldest daughter. "She's moved on and obviously wants nothing to do with you."

"But we're family," Violet said, tears welling up in her dark green eyes. "She's my sister and I love her. We've always been together and supported each other when times were rough."

"Are you sure she feels the same way about you? Perhaps she doesn't care about you as much as you think. You've always been useless. You're more trouble than you're worth and you can't do anything right. You probably drove her away."

Violet shook her head, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "It isn't true. It can't be! We love and care for each other. She would never do this... She couldn't just leave me, especially not without even giving me an explanation."

"You're the explanation," Violet's mother sneered. "She's gone and she isn't coming back and you just have to deal with it. You're nothing but a failure and nobody wants to be around you, not even your own sister."

Violet fled the room in tears, positively howling with misery as she ran to her bedroom and magically locked the door behind her.

She couldn't lose Heather, she just couldn't. Heather was all she had, she meant everything to her. Without her she had nothing, there was no one else in the world that meant more to her than her little sister. Had she really done something that had somehow driven Heather away? That just didn't seem possible. But then again, Violet always believed what her mother told her about being a failure and how she couldn't do anything right. Maybe she did do something wrong that drove her sister away. Violet didn't want to think about that, though. She didn't think she could live with herself if she had somehow unintentionally hurt her sister...

Violet loved her sister. She never meant to hurt or upset her. If only she knew what had happened. If only she knew what went wrong.

"I have to find her and make sure she's alright," Violet thought. "I have to find my baby sister."

\----------------------

It didn't take Violet long to pack up a few of her belongings and place them in a black, velvet drawstring bag. She put an undetectable extention charm on the bag so she could easily carry everything with her in one place, then slipped on her black travelling cloak, tucked her wand into her pocket, and then left her mother's house in search of her sister.

Violet first checked the places her sister was known to visit. She checked The Three Broomsticks and The Leaky Cauldron, but there was no sign of her. She then began looking around Diagon Alley, asking the owner of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor if Heather had stopped by recently. Violet and Heather always enjoyed going to the ice cream parlor in the summer. They'd done so for years since they were children. But today Heather was nowhere to be seen.

There was no point in searching for her sister around Knockturn Alley. Heather wasn't the type to visit places like that. And by now it was nearly noon. Violet had been searching for her sister all morning. So she went back to The Leaky Cauldron and bought herself some lunch, still wondering where her sister might have gone.

It was hard being without her sister. Violet was positively miserable without her sibling. Violet and Heather had always been so close, it didn't make sense that Heather would suddenly vanish without a trace. Could it possibly have had something to do with the war? People were mysteriously disappearing left and right these days, but most often it was muggles and muggleborns that went missing, not purebloods from rich ancient families.

Violet sighed, gazing down at the half eaten sandwich on her plate. She was losing her appetite due to stress and worry over her missing sibling. She was worried about her, and their mother didn't seem to care about the well being of either of her children.

Leaving the gold on the counter to pay for her meal, Violet finished her glass of firewhiskey and left her unfinished meal behind as she exited The Leaky Cauldron. If things kept going like this, it wouldn't be long until she needed more than single glass of firewhiskey to get her through this.

It was now getting late. Violet had been out searching for her sister all day, but there was still no sign of her. And long about now she was seriously beginning to regret the fact that she'd never mastered the ability to perfom a locating charm.

"Whoever said purebloods are better skilled at magic and most other things was wrong," Violet muttered to herself as she continued to walk along a long and winding dirt path outside of Hogsmeade village. "I can't even cast a simple locating charm to find my baby sister... Maybe I really am nothing but a failure."

Violet continued walking up a long, steep hill. Her feet, ankles and lower legs were beginning to ache, but still she kept going until she reached a fork in the road and turned left, continuing along a more level path across the hillside.

She knew where she was going. When she and Heather were teenagers, they used to spend their trips to Hogsmeade taking long walks together beyond the village and into the hills and woods. Violet knew this path well, as she and her sister had walked it several times before. And though she did't really expect to find her sister here, it wouldn't hurt to look, and taking a long walk in the peaceful countryside at dusk always helped her to relax and clear her mind.

As the evening began to draw to a close, Violet continued to walk the bare forest trail alone, lost in thoughts of her missing sister. To her right the sun was beginning to set, casting rays of amber and crimson light across the thin whisps of late summer clouds that slowly drifted across the horizon, bathing the nearby treetops with a warm, gentle glow. A faint breeze rustled the nearby bushes, a cool breeze, carrying with it the first subtle traces of the approaching autumn season. But as Violet stood listening to the leaves gently rustling in the early evening breeze, she heard something behind her. Something, or someone, was moving.

Violet drew her wand and quickly turned around, facing the tall trees and bushes that lined the side of the road. A tall, thin man with wild and unruly brown hair stepped out from behind a tree, his eyes dark and his face shadowed by the overhanging branches and foliage. A sly smile appeared on his lips and he spoke.

"'Ello beau'iful."

Violet took a step back. More men were now appearing from behind the trees and bushes. One of them, who had long, matted grey hair and smelled strongly of dirt, sweat, and dried blood looked as though he were part animal.

"I'd put tha wand away if I were you, pet," said the tall, brown haired man as he began to walk towards her. "You don't want to pick a fight with a band of Snatchers."

Snatchers. Was that what happened to Heather? Had she been captued by them and handed over to the Ministry? No. Heather was a pureblood. There's no way they would want to capture her. Right?

"Who are you?" Violet queried nervously, still pointing her wand at the tall man's chest, her hand trembling slightly as she took another step back.

"Tha is wha I am supposed to be asking you, not the other way around, princess. But if it pleases you, my name is Scabior." He then looked down at the ground behind Violet. "You take one more step back an you're going to fall down tha 'ill, pet. An tha 'ill looks like a long way down."

Violet glanced behind her. Scabior was right. A fall from that height could land her in St. Mungo's with a broken neck...that is if she survived the Snatchers first. But she was a pureblood. Surely they wouldn't want her. Either way, Violet didn't want to stick around long enough to find out. She wanted away from Scabior and his band of Snatchers, fast.

But it was too late. In the split second Violet had glanced over her shoulder at the steep hill behind her Scabior had quickly closed the gap between them as though he had apparated the few yards that separated them.

Violet gasped. Scabior had forcefully slammed her back up against a nearby tree, pinning her against the rough bark with the strength of his lean, muscular body. He drew his wand and jabbed the tip of it into the side of her neck.

"Drop your wand," he hissed in her ear. "Now."

The young witch was trembling visibly now. She could feel Scabior's hot breath on her cheek. His breath carried with it the distinct strong peppery smell of firewhiskey. Infact, now that she was this close to him, Violet realized that most of his entire body smelled of the warm pungent aroma of firewhiskey, along with a trace of other types of alcohal blended in.

Obeying his command, Violet dropped her wand. Moments later another Snatcher appeared and picked it up off the ground.

Violet was terrified and prayed that by following Scabior's orders she might be able to get out of this alive.

"Good girl," Scabior said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle when he wanted it to be. "Now, tell me who you are."

Violet swallowed hard, his wand still pressed aginst her neck. "Stregheria, Violet Stregheria. Pureblood."

Scabior's pale blue eyes widened slightly and he moved the tip of his wand a fraction of an inch away from her neck. "Oh really?" he sneered, a look of faint disbelief clearly present on his face. "Greyback!" he called out to the man with the matted filthy grey hair. "Do we 'ave a Violet Stregheria on our list?"

Greyback reached into his pocket and removed a small, black leather book. He began flipping through the pages until he found Violet's name.

"Here she is, Scabior," Greyback growled. "She's listed as a blood traiter who strongly supports the Order and muggle rights."

"What?" Violet almost couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But I'm a pureblood witch! You can't do this to me!"

Scabior's sneer grew into a sly smile. "Looks like we'll be 'olding on to you for a bit longer after all, pet."


	2. Reward or Ransom

Violet began to panic, her heart pounding violently in her chest. Her eyes darted from one side to the other, frantically searching for someone, anyone, who could help her. But she had walked so far out of town that there was no one around for miles. There was no one who could help her.

"No..." Violet said, fear and panic rising in her voice. She began to struggle against Scabior's strong hold on her. "No! You can't do this to me! Let me go, now!"

Scabior's blue eyes flashed dangerously, his face shadowed in the fading light of the setting sun. "You're not going anywhere unless I say so," he stated curtly, the gentleness in his voice vanishing in an instant. His voice was now chilling, cold, and carried a strong warning in his tone.

Violet froze, fear gripping her heart and her throat, squeezing her vocal cords and making it impossible to speak as her eyes met his, paralyzed by his deeply penetrating and intimidating gaze. She wanted to scream, to cry out for help from anyone who might hear her. But it was hopeless. There was no escaping the powerful Snatcher that now held her locked in his gaze.

Moments later, Scabior roughly shoved Violet to the ground, binding her hands behind her back by conjuring chains that magically wrapped themselves around her wrists.

"Get this through your 'ead, princess," Scabior hissed in Violet's ear, bending down low as he pressed his boot down onto the small of her back. "I am the one in charge 'ere. You will do as I tell you. Understand?"

Violet nodded, whimpering slightly as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Good." Scabior slid his fingers beneath the chains around Violet's wrists and hoisted her up onto her feet. "Alright you lot," he called out to the band of Snatchers around him. "Let's get a move on an get back to camp. We've caught ourselves a lovely little prize with this one, an it needs to be decided who we turn 'er over to in order to recieve the most amount of gold for our work."

The band of Snatchers then disapparated, taking with them their latest prisoner.

The all enclosing blackness and tight, squeezing sensation that compressed her chest and lungs was gone in seconds, and as her vision cleared, Violet saw that she was now standing in the middle of a forest clearing. There were tents set up in a circle around the edge of the clearing, with the remains of last night's campfire still smoldering slightly in the center of the camp.

Violet looked around the campsite then briefly glanced back over her shoulder at the Snatchers standing behind her. Scabior was beside her, one hand firmly grasping the chain around her wrists.

If she attempted to escape now, the first person she'd have to deal with was their leader Scabior, and she wondered wheter or not it would be possible to simply get pats him and apparate before the rest of his men could catch her. Because she knew that if she could successfully attack and take down their leader, it would be enough to cause a temporary disturbance among the rest of the group, therefore creating a small window of opportunity in which she might escape.

But on the other hand she also knew that there wasn't much she could do without her wand, and that as their leader Scabior was most likely the strongest, fastest, and most cunning member of the group and wasn't likely to be an easy target.

Violet didn't have much of a choice, though. She'd already been captured by the Snatchers. And since things could only go from bad to worse anyway, she decided that an escape attempt probably couldn't make things much worse than they already were. Or atleast she hoped it wouldn't make things worse...

As they began to walk towards the campsite, Violet pretended to trip on a rock that was half covered in dry, fallen leaves that littered the forest floor. Scabior stumbled as she pulled him down with her, his hand slipping off the chain around her wrists. Violet's knees hit the ground and she heard the leaves rustling and crunching behind her as Scabior scrambled and slipped in the fall leaves. This was her chance. It was now or never.

A loud crack rent the air as Violet's foot collided with Scabior's face. She kicked him as hard as she could, lashing out at him the only way she could.

Scabior screamed in agony, both hands clutching his now bleeding nose as he collapsed to the ground on his back.

"Bloody bitch!" he snarled furiously.

Some of the Snatchers were now running to Scabior's side while the rest of them were in the process of drawing ther wands and preparing to hex Violet. But despite his injury Scabior was still faster than the rest of his men, and as Violet struggled to rolll over and stand up, one of Scabior's bloodstained hands quickly reached inside the pocket of his jacket for his wand, which he immediately withdrew and used to conjure a second set of chains which wrapped themselves around Violet's ankles.

"Scabior, are you alright?" asked one of the Snatchers, kneeling beside his fallen leader.

"Get back!" Scabior snapped harshly, shoving the other Snatcher away from him. "I'm fine. I'll 'andle tha witch myself!"

The other Snatcher, a young man by the name of Jeremy, slipped when Scabior pushed him and fell over onto his arse in the leaves. He watched as Scabior stood up, wiping the blood streaming from his nose down his top lip on the back of his hand.

"Feisty little minx, aren't you?" Scabior seized hold of the chain around Violet's wrists, hauling her up off the ground.

Violet whimpered softly, sobbing as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"I like tha," Scabior hissed, his hot firewhiskey breath on her face as he cupped her chin with his bloody fingers and raised her face upwards so they were gazing into each other's eyes. "You're lucky my father taught me to never 'it a female . 'Owever, I will 'ave to punish you for your be'avior. Then we'll see just 'ow feisty you really are, pet."

Punishment? What kind of punishment? Could this possibly get any worse?

Scabior took a step back, his broken nose throbbing with terrible pain. He pointed his wand at his nose. "Episkey," he muttered. There was a sudden snapping sound and Scabior's nose was mended. He then looked back at Violet, glaring at her, a frightening sight, his face stained with fresh blood and his eyes blazing intense anger. "Get 'er out of my sight," he growled. "I'll deal with 'er later."

Greyback stepped forward, taking Violet by the arm and dragging her across the leaf strewn forest floor towards the circle of tents, ignoring her sobs and cries as he pushed aside a flap on the tent and hauled her insde where she was then thrown into a corner of the tent and sealed inside with a special charm.

As the sun set behind the forest trees and began its slow descent below the hills in an azure and lavender tinted sky with warm late summer peach hues and small whisps of snow white clouds, Scabior and his Snatchers sat around the campfire talking while a Snatcher named Silis prepared vegetable stew and rice for dinner.

"So, we caught ourselves a Stregheria, eh?" a Snatcher named Ranca said, sitting directly to Scabior's left. "I've heard of them. Family's been around for ages, I hear. Like the Malfoys."

"Tha's not good," Scabior grumbled. He was still in a foul mood from the events that occurred upon capturing Violet. "The Ministry isn't going to pay us much gold for a pureblood from an ancient wizarding family."

"But it says in the book she supports the Order. That's got to make her worth something to us, Scabior."

"The Order..." Scabior frowned and spat into the campfire. "So she supports Dumbledore an 'is lot. 'Ow lovely," he added sarcastically, his bright blue eyes mirroring the burning flames of the campfire.

Silis began pouring the stew into bowls and handing them to the men around the campfire. Scabior accepted the large bowl Silis gave him and blew on the steaming liquid to cool it off a bit before dipping his spoon in the bowl and beginning his meal.

"Can I have her then?" Greyback queried, gazing up at Scabior with a disturbingly twisted grin on his face. "If she isn't worth much gold then perhaps I can have some fun with her."

"Ease off, Greyback," Scabior warned. "I 'aven't decided wha we're going to do with 'er yet. An either way she's still worth more to us alive than she would be dead. So you keep your filthy mits to yourself."

Greyback scowled and went back to eating his dinner.

"How much do you think she's worth?" Ranca asked, taking a sip of water from a canteen.

Scabior thought about Ranca's question for a moment, taking his time as he chewed a large piece of mushroom then swallowed. "Right now she's more trouble than she's worth. An we'd be lucky to get a 'andful of sickles for 'er."

"But she's a known supporter of the Order," Silis pointed out.

Scabior shook his head. "It doesn't matter. 'Er blood status greatly diminishes 'er value. We get paid to bring in mudbloods, not witches an wizards like 'er. She's worth next to nothing to us."

"You know, I think the Stregherias are rich," Ranca said.

This caught Scabior's attention and he immediately looked over at Ranca. "'Ow rich?" he asked.

"Lucius Malfoy rich," Ranca replied. "In fact I think the Stregherias might even be distant relatives of the Malfoys."

Scabior's eyes lit up, glinting in the firelight as a wide smile spread across his face. "We'll 'old 'er for ransom, then. I bet 'er parents will pay us a great deal of gold to 'ave their little girl back."

\----------------

Violet was awake before dawn the next morning. The night was long, and most of the time she either wept silently on the floor or dozed lightly for a couple minutes. Her body was tense from fear and anxiety, leaving her unable to relax enough to fall asleep.

Shortly after dawn before the sun had fully cleared the horizon the flap on the tent opened, revealing the silhouette of a male figure standing at the entrance.

Violet squinted in the bright sunlight, tendrils of her short brown hair trailing down into her face, escaping the confines of her ponytail as she gazed up at the man now entering the tent.

"Morning beau'iful," Violet heard Scabior say as he walked in. "Are you going to be'ave yourself today? Or are you going to continue being a pain in my arse?"

The young witch glared up at him from the floor, anger showing through the fear in her olive green eyes. "That depends," she muttered irritably. "Are you going to keep treating me like shit?"

"I treat you like tha because you won't be'ave yourself. If you'd straighten your arse up and start be'aving like you should then I wouldn't 'ave to treat you this way."

Violet sniffed, angry tears trickling from the corners of her eyes and down her chin.

Scabior knelt down beside her. He reached out his gloved hand and gently wiped away her tears. "Don't cry, pet. I 'ate to see females upset."

Violet was surprised by how tender and gentle he could be. However she still didn't trust him and quickly turned her head, shutting her eyes to block out the sight of him as she tried wriggling away from him on the floor.

"Don't touch me!' she cried. "Just leave me alone."

"So you're going to be tha way are you?" Scabior said, frowning as his eyes appeared to darken in the early dawn light. "Fine then."

He seized her by the arm and roughly pulled her up onto her feet. He then drew his wand and vanished the chains binding her ankles and wrists together.

"I'm taking you outside for some fresh air an a spot of breakfast. I don't want to 'ave to 'urt you, but if you disobey my orders there will be no food for you today. Understand?"

Violet sadly hung her head, unable to look him in the eye. "Yes."

"Yes, sir," Scabior corrected her, his tone harsh as he began to lead her towards the entrance of the tent, one hand firmly clasped around her upper arm.

Violet sniffed, holding back tears as he walked her outside. "Yes, sir."

As she was lead outside into the center of the campsite where Silis was once again preparing a meal for everyone, the first thing she noticed was an older Snatcher named Morvin sitting on a log near the campfire with a tawny owl perched on his shoulder. He was scribbling on a sheet of parchment he had placed on his lap.

"Sit," Scabior ordered, motioning with a nod of his head towards a large rock located near the campfire. Violet did as he said and sat down on the rock. She then watched as Scabior walked over to Morvin and snatched the sheet of parchment off his lap.

"What're you doin'?" Morvin asked, looking up at Scabior. "I haven't finished wiv it yet."

"I'm checking your writing," Scabior replied. "Most of wha you write is barely legible. I want to make sure it's readable before we send it off."

Morvin sighed impatiently and began drumming his fingers on his knee.

"Morv." Scabior glared at him from over the top of the parchment. "Don't take tha attitude with me."

Morvin stopped drumming his fingers, looking away with irritation as he gazed off into the distance. Moments later Scabior balled up the sheet of parchment and threw it at him, hitting Morvin in the side of the head with the wadded up parchment.

"This is 'orrible," Scabior spat in annoyance. "'Ow are we supposed to get any gold when the people who receive the note can't even read it?"

"I'll take care of it, boss," said Ranca.

Scabior nodded his approval. He then turned to Violet and asked, "Where do you live, pet?"

"Why do you ask?" Violet queried, still not looking up at him as she wrapped her arms around her body for warmth, shivering in the cold dawn air.

"I ask because I want to know," Scabior replied harshly. "An you will tell me the answer to my question."

"Thirteen Eureka Road, north of Hogsmeade. It's the two story blue house in the foothills by the lake. But it doesn't matter. Nobody there cares about me anyway."

"Really?" Scabior looked at her with mild curiousity showing in his eyes. "Well we'll just see about tha."

"Breakfast is ready!" Silis announced loudly to the camp, rousing the remaining Snatchers from their tents as they awoke and hurried outside to join the others for breakfast.

Scabior handed a plate containing a mixture of rice, bacon, fried onions and scrambled eggs to Violet.

Violet stared down at her plate. "What is this?"

"It's something I like to call a breakfast casserole," said Scabior. "I'm rather fond of casseroles, an the onions 'elp give it an extra bit of flavor."

But Violet wasn't interested in eating. She felt ill from worry and upset, exhausted from lack of sleep and had no appetite whatsoever.

After several minutes had passed Scabior looked over at her and noticed that she hadn't touched her food. She was just sitting there, one hand cupping her cheek with her elbow on her knee as she moved the food around on her plate with her spoon without actually eating any of it.

"You're not eating, pet."

"I'm not hungry," Violet sighed.

"Eat. Or I'll shove the food down your throat myself."

Feeling frightened and intimidated by the threatening tone in Scabior's voice Violet began to force herself to eat. But she was nauseous and more than once she nearly gagged while attempting to swallow a mouthful of food.

Her dificuilty eating did not go unnoticed by Scabior who seemed to be the only one who noticed her struggle, watching her from the corner of his eye as she ate.

There was concern in his eyes as he watched her. Scabior could sense that there was something deeper troubling her, something more than being held captive by the Snatchers. He could see it in the worn look on her face, the sorrow and the pain in her eyes. Something was wrong. Violet was broken, she was hurt, and Scabior wanted to know why.


	3. Broken Shards

By the time breakfast was finished that morning Ranca had completed the ransom note and borrowed Morvin's owl to send the note to Violet's parents. Violet had become unusually quiet, and as Scabior got her by the arm and lead her back towards her tent curiosity got the better of him and he decided to have a talk with her.

The inside of the prisoner's tent was scarcely furnished with a small table and a cot with a blanket on it but not much else. And judging by how empty the tent was Violet was the only person this Snatchers were currently holding captive.

"Sit down, pet," said Scabior, motioning with his gloved hand towards the cot.

Violet did as she was told and sat down, keeping her head down, avoiding his gaze. Scabior cupped her chin with his fingers, lifting her head so her green eyes met with his.

"Look at me, pet. I'm not keeping you chained up today. But this tent is charmed so that no one can escape. Only I can freely come an go from 'ere so the only way you leave is with me."

Violet's gaze began to drift to the side.

"I said look at me," said Scabior, raising his voice to get her attention.

She immediately looked back at him. He was barely a foot away from her, and for a moment that stretched on for what felt like hours they both were silent, both gazing deeply into each others eyes. Finally Scabior broke the silence, his hand lowering as he relinquished his hold on her and took a step back.

"Why were you out in the middle of nowhere when I found you?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her as he spoke. "Don't you know 'ow dangerous it is to go wandering around outside near dark?"

"I do now," Violet remarked dryly. "And I wasn't out in the middle of nowhere."

"You were practically at the edge of the forest."

"I was only a couple miles from home."

"Answer my question," said Scabior, his kohl lined eyes narrowing in the darkness of the tent as he glared at her. "Wha were you doing out in the middle of nowhere? An look at me when I'm talking to you."

Violet shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I was looking for my sister," she muttered nervously. Why did Scabior have to be so intimidating?

"Your sister?"

"Yes." Violet nodded. "She mysteriously vanished weeks ago and I was trying to find her."

"You don't know 'ow to cast a basic locating charm?"

"No..." Violet stared down at her hands, feeling embarrassed. "Just because I'm a pureblood doesn't necessarily mean I can cast every spell in the book."

Scabior studied her carefully, taking a moment to process what she'd told him. If he remembered correctly he thought he'd heard something about the Death Eaters capturing a young woman a few weeks ago. But his job tracking muggleborns and rouge witches and wizards kept him very busy and he hadn't had the time to contact his friends within Voldemort's inner circle to find out more information.

"I think something is wrong," Violet continued. "My sister and I always used to write to each other, but I haven't heard anything from her in ages. Something must have happened to her...something bad that prevents her from communicating with me because everytime I send her a letter my owl comes back without a reply."

"Well you needn't worry about tha for long, pet. Because as soon as Ranca's ransom note reaches your parents your whole family ought to become quite concerned about your whereabouts and wellbeing."

"I doubt it," said Violet, her green eyes darkening with faraway shadows of grief and loneliness. "Nobody in my family ever gave a damn about me except my sister, and she's been missing for weeks. So I doubt that she'll be home when my mum gets your friend's note."

Violet was looking at Scabior now, and he was clearly able to hear as well as see the intense level of hurt within her eyes. It was a pain that was audible in her voice, and suddenly she began to appear tired and worn, like a woman much older than the young age of twenty eight.

For a moment they stared at each other in the dim light shining through the thick canvas of the tent. Then Violet spoke, a sudden anger and defiance entering her voice.

"You can't hurt me," she spat angrily. "You can't do anything that my parents haven't already done. They've already torn me apart, and all that you have are the remains."

For a brief second Violet thought she saw a faint trace of sympathy on Scabior's face, but then he blinked his kohl lined eyes and the minute hint of compassion was erased, replaced by a dark and malicious stare as he gazed at her, his voice deathly calm but laced with ill intent as he spoke.

"Careful, princess. You may act tough as a means of protecting yourself, but no matter 'ow 'ard we become on the outside we all 'ave soft spots, weaknesses that can be exploited an taken advantage of."

Scabior took a step forward, bending down low enough so that they were face level with each other. "I think you know wha I can do to you," he said, his voice a low, sinister whisper. "I also think you've been 'urt enough to realize tha there are fates worse than death. An if you take tha tone with me again, I promise tha I will make you regret it."

Scabior decided that he'd had enough of listening to her attitude for one morning and turned and exited the tent, leaving Violet alone and trapped in the enchanted tent.

Violet was quiet for several minutes after he left, her anger and frustration growing by the second. She felt so helpless and alone, trapped with no way to escape and still no where near finding her sister. She was so tired of the pain she felt, of the abuse she had endured from the day she was born. How could they understand her pain? They didn't know her torment. And now this strange man had come into her life, threatening to hurt her in ways she had not experienced before. Would he really do that to her? Could that actually happen?

She was feeling overwhelmed and desperately needed an escape, a release from her torment and suffering. She looked around the room and spied an empty drinking glass on the table beside her cot.

Without thinking she seized the glass and hurled it across the tent, watching it shatter into a dozen pieces on the floor. Her hands trembling, Violet sifted through the broken glass, pausing only for a moment to glance up at the tent flap, waiting and watching, listening for the sound of footsteps. But no one came. The tent had been charmed so that no one on the outside could hear any noises from within, making it so that the Snatchers wouldn't have to be disturbed by the cries from their prisoners.

When she heard no one approaching the tent she knew it was safe to proceed and picked up a large piece of the broken glass. Tears now streaming freely down her cheeks, Violet rolled up her left pants leg and swiftly drew the sharp edge of the glass across her inner thigh, drawing blood. She repeated the action again and again until small drops of blood began to slowly trickle down her thigh.

Collapsing onto her side on the floor, her breath now coming in ragged sobs, Violet felt her emotional pain diminish as the physical pain in her thigh took over. She dropped the piece of glass and closed her eyes, crying as she fell into a deep sleep.

\-------------------

Morning had one again come to the Snatchers camp, the early morning sun doing little to warm the chilly dawn air as the mid September cold and dampness settled over the forest.

It had now been five days since Ranca had sent his ransom note to Violet's mother, and so far there had been no reply.

"Perhaps she gave us a false address," sneered Greyback, tearing off a strip of flesh from the rabbit he was eating for breakfast. His rabbit was somewhat on the raw side, and a thin trail of blood dripped down his chin as he ate. "You want me to try interrogating her, Scabior?"

Scabior frowned in disgust as he watched Greryback lick the blood off his lips. "No, Greyback. I'll interrogate 'er myself if I 'ave to."

"So in other words you haven't fucked her yet," growled Greyback.

A few of the men sitting around the campsite grinned to themselves or to others, chuckling and snickering a little.

"Whaddya say, Silis?" Morvin said, elbowing his companion in the side. "She's a right pretty one, ain't she?"

"No one is to touch 'er without my permission," said Scabior, his stern tone leaving no room for argument.

In the silence that followed Scabior looked up as he heard the sound of wings fluttering overhead. Ranca's owl had returned and was swooping low as he prepared to land.

"Incomin'!" Morvin called out.

Silis ducked just in time to avoid a head on collision with the small owl. Ranca's owl then landed on the forest floor next to his owner and began pecking at Ranca's plate of bacon.

"Well that's rather odd," said Ranca, inspecting his owl for any sign of mail. "Hermes doesn't seem to have a reply with him."

"'E doesn't?" Scabior reached for the owl and Hermes fluttered reluctantly onto his wrist. Sure enough the little brown and white speckled owl was without any trace of mail from Violet's mother.

Scabior was baffled by the lack of response. He'd never seen anything like this before. And as he handed Hermes back to Ranca, he began to wonder if everything Violet told him about her parents not wanting anything to do with her was actually true. But how could that be? Could it really be possible for a mother to be so neglectful and uncaring towards her own child?

"I don't understand this," said Ranca, looking somewhat confused. "This sort of thing has never happened before."

"I still think she lied to us about where she lives," Greyback grumbled, picking his teeth with a bone from the rabbit he was eating.

"I don't think so," said Silis. "Sometimes you don't even need a person's address. You just put someone's name on the envelope and the owl can find its way on its own."

"What do you make of this, boss?" Ranca asked, turning to face Scabior.

Scabior blinked and looked at Ranca. He had been lost in thought, gazing into the flickering flames of the campfire as he pondered what Violet had told him about her family a few days ago.

He suddenly felt lost in a torrent of conflicting emotions. Scabior had a job to do. He knew he was a Snatcher and that work and making money came first. But he also felt concern for the young woman he had snatched. He also felt a sense of understanding deep down inside.

"I'll 'andle this," Scabior said. He stood up and headed towards Violet's tent.

A wicked grin spread across Greyback's face as he watched Scabior enter her tent. "Save something for me to play with, Scabior!" he called after him.

Violet was still asleep when Scabior entered her tent. She'd been oversleeping the past few days, and though she was still uncomfortable when in Scabior's presence she atleast seemed calmer than she had been when he had first captured her.

"Wake up, princess," said Scabior, kicking the side of the cot Violet was sleeping on.

Violet started and gasped, looking wildly around the tent until her eyes landed on Scabior.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"You slept through breakfast again," Scabior replied. "I 'ad Silis save you something, but tha's not the reason why I'm 'ere, pet. I 'ave something more important to discuss with you this morning."

Violet looked nervously at her captor, waiting for him to speak. And after a brief pause he continued.

"A few days ago my mate Ranca sent a ransom note to your mum. We did this because your family 'as money an because the ministry won't pay us much, if anything, for bringing in someone of your blood status. It's been five days now, an Ranca's owl returned without a reply. Would you like to explain to me why this is?"

"I already told you," murmured Violet, still groggy and not fully awake yet. "My sister is the only member of my family that cares about me. You won't get a single knut out of the rest of them. In fact they'd probably pay you to keep me."

"Is tha so?" Scabior asked, a look of mingled frustration and unwillingness to believe on his face. "Greyback seems to think you gave us a false address."

Violet shook her head. "No, I didnt . I told you before, my parents don't want me. I'm nothing to them just like I'm nothing to you and the rest of your filthy lot."

In one swift fluid motion Scabior closed the gap between them, drawing his wand as he walked towards her.

"Don't fuck with me, princess," he snarled, aiming his wand at her heart. "My time is valuable to me. I 'ave other jobs I could be doing right now, an every day I waste on you is another day I don't get paid. So I'd damn well better get my money's worth from you because I don't like losing gold over some muggle loving bitch like you!"

Violet shrunk away from him in fear, drawing her blanket up to her chest as her heart began to race.

"Although there are other ways you could be of use to me," he said, his eyes shining faintly in the darkness of the tent. His gaze then drifted downwards over her body.

It took his words a moment to register is her mind, but the instant she understood what he meant Violet began to inch further away from him, her back pressing against the canvas of the tent.

Scabior reached out with his free hand, tugging strands of her hair out of her ponytail and bringing it to his nose as he inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and spice mingled with a slight trace of perspiration.

"Funny you don't smell like violets," he said. Then with a flick of his wand Scabior magically pinned her hands above her head before climbing into bed and sitting on her lap, her back now flat against the cot as he straddled her.

A fiendish grin crossed his face as he watched her struggle to escape. He was enjoying this, watching her squirm and writhe frantically beneath him, the movement of her body against his groin causing him to become aroused as she attempted to free herself.

Violet cried out as Scabior shoved his hand up her shirt, groping and fondling her left breast before silencing her with a fiery kiss as his lips crashed down onto her mouth.

In her vain struggle to free herself Violet bit down on Scabior's bottom lip. But this did nothing to deter him. Instead he seemed even more turned on by her actions and moaned against her mouth as he ground his hips against her.

Moving his lips a fraction away from her, Scabior reached down and slid his hand into her pants, caressing her through her underwear.

"Remember 'ow I said I like my women to be a bit fiesty?" he said, his breathing becoming heavier as he leaned in and spoke softly in her ear. "Well this is the reason why. I told you I'd punish you for your be'avior earlier an I meant it, pet. This will be your punishment."

"No! Stop! Get away from me! Please!" Violet sobbed.

Violet continued to cry and beg him to stop, but as he tugged her pants down around her ankles Scabior's mouth dropped open as he spied something he hadn't expected to see.

Along Violet's inner left thigh were several long cuts, each one deep and sore, the skin around the wounds red and inflamed. The cuts ran vertically down the side of her thigh with a few diagonal cuts crisscrossing the vertical gashes. They looked as though they were a few days old but with layers of faded pink and whit scars beneath the fresh wounds, indicating that this sort of behavior had been going on for some time now.

"Wha the bloody 'ell is this?!" Scabior exclaimed, looking down in shock and revulsion at the scars and gashes on her thigh.

Violet closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, refusing to look at him or even speak to him. She had no idea how to explain this to him, and part of her didn't want to explain it anyway. This was her secret. She never meant to tell anyone how she suffered alone in silence.

Scabior was now backing off her, his gaze still fixed on the wounds on her inner thigh. He traced the raw cuts with his fingertips and heard her hiss with pain as she clenched her teeth together.

"Who did this to you?" Scabior queried, his harsh tone demanding an answer.

Violet sobbed into her pillow, still refusing to speak.

"Did your mum do this to you?" Scabior asked. He hadn't yet considered the possibility that she had done this herself.

Again Violet was silent, this time shaking her head in a definite no.

Scabior hesitated before asking, "Did you do this to yourself?"

Violet said nothing. She did not even shake or nod her head in response.

Scabior sighed heavily and ran his fingers back through his wild and unruly red streaked hair. She had done this and he knew it. What he couldn't understand was why. Why would anyone choose to intentionally harm themself?

He turned, glancing around the room as if searching for something that would provide him with the answers as to why someone would do such a thing. For a second he felt hopelessly lost and confused, then he took a look back at the cot she lay upon.

"'Old still," he said, his tone much softer now, and Violet felt him easing her legs apart. She feared that he was going to continue in his attempt to rape her, but she then began to feel a cool tingling sensation along the length of her left thigh that spread outward to her knee, andmake realized that he was healing her with his magic.

Violet opened her eyes, slowly lifting her head and looking down at the wounds on her thigh. They were beginning to mend, growing fainter by the, second asmhis magic healed her self-inflicted wounds.

When he'd finished healing her to the best of his ability Scabior pulled her pants up and removed the spell binding her hands above her head.

His face was unreadable as he gazed at her, a stoic mask of forced calm concealed his inner conflict as warring mixed emotions grew stronger, screaming in frustration for release.

Did he dare tell her? Did he care enough to tell her? Would it even matter if he did?

A long silence filled the air around them, deep and penetrating into every cell of their bodies. It felt as though an eternity had passed before Scabior spoke, finally breaking the silence that had settled between them.

"Why did you do it?"

Violet let her gaze drop to the cold floor beneath her. "You wouldn't understand," she muttered softly.

"Try me," Scabior persisted.

There was no way out of this now. Violet wasn't exactly in a position to argue with him.

Fighting back tears she swallowed hard and began to speak.

"My mother despises me. She says I'm a failure and a disgrace to the wizarding world because I don't behave the way a pureblood witch should...because I make friends with muggleborns, because I refuse to think of myself as better than others just because of my blood status, and because I'm against you-know-who and all he stands for. My mother has actually thought about joining you-know-who...says it would be an honor to serve him, that it's our duty to rid the world of those that are beneath us, the 'lower life forms', as she calls them. I want nothing to do with any of it, and that is why she hates me."

"An tha..." Scabior glanced down at her left thigh briefly, "tha made you do this to yourself?"

"I just...I just don't know how she can do it," Violet said, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. "She's my mother... Isn't she supposed to love me and not treat me this way? Why doesn't she love me? Why am I never good enough for her?"

"An you think my life is perfect? You think my parents love and adore me despite wha I am?" Scabior spat in annoyance. "Look at me. I'm a Snatcher. I'm the leader of the Snatchers. Do you think my mum an dad are proud of tha?"

"But your parents -"

"My parents are dead!" Scabior shouted suddenly, startling Violet and causing her to jump in surprise. "They were murdered by Death Eaters!"

Violet gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in shock.

"When I was in school I 'ad a couple friends who went on to become Death Eaters," Scabior continued. "The Dark Lord took an interest in us, noticing our skills an abilities. I refused to join 'im. I even tried to talk my best friend out of joining 'im. But it didn't work an the Dark Lord told me tha if I didn't join 'is ranks 'e would kill my entire family.

"I didn't want to become a Death Eater, but I couldn't just let my family die. So I tried to create a compromise. I invented the idea of the Snatchers, men who would 'unt down mudbloods an bring them to 'im. The Dark Lord 'ad seen wha I was capable of an knew tha I was able to 'andle the job. 'E agreed to spare my family so long as I served 'im an brought in prisoners with my band of Snatchers."

Scabior paused, inhaling a deep breath, and in the low light shining through the dense canvas Violet thought she saw his body tremble as though he were fighting to contain a powerful surge of emotions that was coursing through his heart.

He had to maintain his composure and stay calm. Scabior refused to show weakness or appear vulnerable through his display of emotions. He'd already paid for that once before and he swore that he'd never make that same mistake twice.

"After tha I thought everything would be alright," said Scabior, his tone dry and cold as he forced himself to remain calm, though he appeared to be having difficulty speaking for every word he spoke required great effort to be spoken and caused him a lot of pain. "But six weeks after I started snatching the Dark Lord sent one of his Death Eaters to my parents 'ouse and killed them. 'E killed them anyway, an when I asked 'im why 'e said it was to keep me in line because 'e knew tha I didn't really want to work for 'im in the first place...an to show me wha would 'appen to me if I ever tried to back out of the agreement I made.

"My parents died knowing wha I 'ad become...tha I am now a Snatcher. They practically disowned me, claiming tha they didn't 'ave a son. So even if the war ended tomorrow an I could go back to the way my life was before this began I can't fix wha I've done. My parents went to their grave knowing tha their son is a criminal...an now I can never return to the life I 'ad before."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Violet softly murmured.

"Yes, I'm sure you are," Scabior remarked sarcastically. "You an everyone else around 'ere."

"No, I really am. I didn't know you've been through so much." Violet sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. She didn't know why but for some reason she was beginning to feel sympathetic towards her captor despite the fact that he had come very close to raping her. She felt she could understand him and that perhaps his problems were even greater than hers.

"How do you deal with it?" she asked him. "How do you manage to tolerate life and still continue to get out of bed every morning?"

"I drink," Scabior replied bitterly. "A lot. Most of my lot would even go so far as to say I 'ave a problem. But none of them know why or care enough to ask me why I do it. I also know tha you can't spend your life wallowing in self-pity an regret. So I make a point to live my life to the fullest an do the best I can, taking things one day at a time in this mad, fucked up world we are currently forced to live in."

Violet drew the blanket up to her chin, curling up in a ball on her side as a single tear slid slowly down her cheek. A tear she shed not just for herself but for Scabior as well.

"I wish I could do that," she whispered hoarsely, her voice beginning to crack. "I wish I could be strong and brave like you."

Scabior sighed and rolled his eyes. He reached under Violet's blanket and took hold of her by the hand, pulling her off the cot and onto her feet. "Come on, princess."

"Wait!" Violet cried, already attempting to free herself from the clutches of his strong grip. "Where are you taking me?"

"To my tent," said Scabior. "You're going to live with me so tha I can keep an eye on you an make sure you don't 'urt yourself anymore."


	4. Nightmares

Violet was horrified. She wanted to get away from Scabior, not end up living in close contact with him. It was as though everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong, and now things were getting even worse, spiraling out of control into some form of bleak unending nightmare.

As Scabior pushed aside the tent flap and drug Violet out into the cold autumn sunlight, the young witch struggled and tried to free herself, her feet digging into the earth creating furrows in the leaf litter that covered the ground beneath her.

She screamed and fought, trying with all her might to escape, while all around her her actions were drawing the attention of the other Snatchers who looked up at her, watching her fruitless struggle, some of them with smirks or sly grins on their faces as they watched Scabior pulling her along towards his tent.

"Scabior must really like this un," said Morvin, a wicked smile on his face as he elbowed Ranca in the side. "It's been a while since I last saw him takin' a woman inna his tent wiv him."

Try as she might there was no getting away from Scabior. He was too strong, his lean, muscular body well toned and fit from his time spent running, hunting and tracking in the forest. Within seconds he'd dragged her into his tent, ignoring her frantic pleas and cries as he pushed her down onto his bed.

Violet's eyes widened with terror as she looked up and saw Scabior standing over her. For a second she feared that he was about to make another attempt at raping her. But instead he reached out and gently brushed aside a lock of hair from her face.

"I won't 'urt you, but you need to be still an listen to me," he said softly. "Just listen, pet. Tha's all I want right now."

Her breathing was ragged and her body was trembling with fright. Her heart pounding fiercely in her chest, she wanted nothing more than to escape. But as she gazed into his blue eyes she felt her body still for a moment, seemingly mesmerized by the beauty of his eyes and the finely sculpted features of his face.

"Will you listen to me?" Scabior asked.

Violet swallowed hard, her mouth dry, and nodded.

"I will take care of you," he said. "As long as you live with me I will not allow you to 'urt yourself anymore. Tha's not the way to solve your problems."

"Why do you care what I do to myself?" she snapped bitterly. "Afaid you'll get in trouble with your master if you deliver to him damaged goods?"

"You already are damaged goods. But I think you've been damaged emotionally more than you 'ave physically."

Scabior knelt down, running his fingers through her hair, and lightly kissed her forehead. "I can repair the damage if you let me."

Violet stared at him, her mind suddenly overwhelmed by a swirling torrent of fear, confusion, and disbelief. Could this man really be trusted? Why was he acting so caring and concerned all of a sudden?

She watched as he stood up and remained standing by her for several long seconds as he studied her closely. He definitely seemed troubled by her broken and emotionally frail state. And if she didn't know better...was that a faint trace of guilt shimmering in the depths of his deep blue eyes?

Taking a few steps back, Scabior pointed his wand at a small trunk by the foot of his bed. The locks on the trunk magically opened and out floated a few books that landed on the bed. Another wave of his wand and the trunk locked itself again.

"'Ere, pet. I want you to 'ave a look at those while I'm out working today," said Scabior, indicating with a nod of his head towards the pile of books on his bed. "It'll give you something to do to keep your mind occupied while I'm away. Also, from now on when I retire for the evening, I'm going to strip you down to your undergarments to check an make sure you 'aven't been 'urting yourself when I'm not around."

"No!" Violet protested angrily. "You can't do that to me!"

"I can an I will," Scabior said in a firm tone. "Now I'm going out to round up some mudbloods with my mates. I shall return later this afternoon." And with that he turned around and exited the tent.

Furious, Violet picked up one of the books on the bed and threw it at him as he left. The book missed its intended target, striking the tent flap as though it were a solid brick wall and fell open on the floor.

For several long seconds she was silent, gazing down at the book as angry tears slid down her cheeks. She felt so frustrated and alone. If only she could escape from this wretched hellhole and find her sister. But judging by the looks of things she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. If anything things were only going to get worse before they got better. That is if they got better.

She eventually laid down in bed on her side with her back facing the entrance to the tent. She stared at the wall, her mind full of troubling worries and thoughts. She wondered if she'd ever see her sister again.

When Scabior retuned late that afternoon he brought with him Violet's evening meal, which consisted of a bowl of vegetable stew, some slices of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice.

Stepping over the book and easing it aside with his foot Scabior entered the tent.

"Looks like we 'ad a bit of a tantrum in 'ere, didn't we?" Scabior placed the food on his desk. "Come over 'ere, pet. I brought you some dinner."

Violet shifted slightly in Scabior's bed and looked over her shoulder at the meal he had brought her. She wasn't interested in eating, but she knew that if she refused he would probably tie her in a chair and force feed her. She she forced herself to get out of bed, sat down at the desk and began to eat.

"Food's a bit fresher tonight," said Scabior, walking toward his bed and sitting down on it. "Better variety too. We got a good 'aul today so I sent my mates out to restock our supplies after we got paid.'

"Why aren't you eating?" Violet asked, glancing back at him as he took a swig from a bottle of firewhiskey.

"I'll eat later," he told her. "I want to make sure you finish your meal first."

The rest of the meal passed in silence as Violet wasn't interested in having a conversation with him. The evening then followed much the same as Violet sat alone in Scabior's tent listening to the gentle lull of conversation coming from outside. It wasn't until well after midnight that Scabior decided it was time for him to go to bed.

Scabior took a shower in the the bathroom located inside his tent while Violet sat at his desk looking at the stack of books Scabior had given her earlier that morning. She hadn't opened or read any of them yet but was becoming somewhat curious about them and read the titles and the backs of the books. She was also looking at them in an effort to distract her mind from what she knew would happen when Scabior finished his shower.

He would come for her, force her to strip so he could examine her frightened and vulnerable body for signs of self harm.

'Or so he says,' she thought, feeling her chest constrict and her beathing become shallow out of nervous anxiety. 'What kind of perverted pleasure does he get out of this? He doesn't really care about me, does he?'

She looked down at the surface of the desk, hanging her head, her brown hair falling in curtains to frame her plump face as she fought back tears.

The room became silent as the sound of running water stopped. Violet froze, her pulse accelerating as she braced herself for the inevitable. Moments later, Scabior walked into he room wearing nothing but a pair of purple plaid pajama bottoms. In his right hand he was carrying a black tank top and a pair of black pajama bottoms. The pajama bottoms were embellished with small but beautiful pictures of red roses. But Violet hadn't noticed any of this for she was now too busy staring at the half nude attractive man that stood before her.

Scabior's body was just as finely sculpted as his face, with muscular arms and a bare chest with well developed pectoral muscles. His body was stunningly gorgeous, with strong shoulders and arms, a flat stomach and narrow waist.

Violet couldn't help herself. Her lips parted as her mouth dropped open in awe of Scabior's attractive form.

A smirk crossed the fine features of Scabior's face as he watched her reactions. "Like wha you see, pet?"

"Oh!" Violet blinked, her senses returning abruptly as the sound of Scabior's voice brought her back to the present.

Scabior chuckled, walking forward and placing the clothes in his hand on the bed. "I 'ave something for you, sweet'eart."

Violet shifted her gaze to the tank top and pajama bottoms. "Those are mine?" she said slowly. Scabior nodded. "Why?"

"My past experiences with females 'as taught me tha they can become rather un'appy when they aren't given the proper amount of care and attention," he said. "You are already un'appy as it is. So I 'ad one of my mates pick these up for you while we were out today. You can 'ave them, along with a 'ot shower before bed, but only on one condition."

Violet looked at him with curiosity and wary suspicion on her face. "And what's that?"

"You 'ave to let me examine you in your undergarments for any fresh wounds you may 'ave inflicted whilst I was away."

Violet bit her bottom lip and glanced back at the clothing he had brought her. A shower did sound nice, and though the clothes weren't exactly as heavy and warm as she liked they were rather pretty with patterns of dark green leaves and red roses trailing down the length of the black pajama bottoms. But she didn't know if she could bring herself to do what he wanted.

"I'm trying to make this easier for you, pet," said Scabior. "I know this must be difficult, so I'm trying to help in any way I can."

Reluctantly Violet agreed to his deal. She would let him look her over each night to make sure she wasn't harming herself.

"And what happens if you find that I've been cutting myself?" she asked.

Scabior sighed, a frown creasing the corners of his mouth as he said softly, "We'll deal with tha later. It's late, princess, an I 'ave to get to work tomorrow."

"Alright. I understand." Violet didn't really want to discuss what would happen if Scabior discovered that she'd been harming herself anyway.

She picked up the clothes that Scabior had set out for her on the bed and was halfway to the bathroom when Scabior stopped her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"'Old on a minute," he said, his other hand reaching down into one of the pockets in his pajama bottoms. He withdrew a pair of black panties along with a black bra, both trimmed in white lace. "Since I'm going to be seeing you in your underwear after your shower, I want you to wear these for me."

\-------------------------

It was nearly one in the morning by the time Violet, now dressed in her new clothes, had finally settled in for bed. Scabior had found nothing out of the ordinary during his examination of her after her shower and as a final reward for her good behavior he decided to allow her to sleep in bed with him. Though Violet wasn't exactly sure that sleeping in the same bed with him could be considered a "reward."

"You live in my tent, you sleep in my bed," he told her, waving his wand over his bed as he preformed a charm that would make the bed big enough for the both of them to sleep in. He then pulled back the covers on the bed. "After you, pet."

Violet laid down in bed, keeping her back to him as she gazed at the wall. Scabior kept his back to her as well, facing the entrance of the tent.

"Sweet dreams," said Scabior, extinguishing the candles on his desk with a flick of his wand, plunging them into darkness. Only the dim light from the moon shown overhead, its light creeping in between the folds of thick canvas at the entrance.

The minutes passed slowly as Violet lay staring into the darkness that surrounded her. Outside the wind was blowing in sharp gusts. A storm was brewing on the horizon, bringing with it the promise of rain. And within the deepest recesses of Violet's mind a storm of a different nature was also taking shape until at last she fell asleep and drifted into a world of torment and fear.

The skies were cold and bleak, the freezing clouds overhead were gathering in an ominous manner as driving winds rose over the treetops, bringing with it pelting sheets of hail.

As the hail struck the earth, Violet ran barefoot across the icy ground, her sister running ahead of her as they raced to find shelter from the vicious storm. In the distance an abandoned building loomed over them, its derelict frame rising out of the dark night. It didn't exactly look like the best place to seek shelter, its rotted boards creaking in the fierce winds as pieces of hail fell though large holes in the ceiling. But Violet and Heather didn't have much of a choice. The storm was getting worse. If they were lucky, they might be able to find a dry spot within the building.

Suddenly Violet stopped, a sharp cry of pain escaped her lips as a shard of ice that was sharp as glass scliced open her right arm.

"Violet!" Heather turned around in time to see her sister clutch her bleeding arm, stumbling as she came to an abrupt halt.

Within seconds the hail storm began to pour down blades of ice. It was as though someone with the power to control and conjure ice had turned the storm into a weapon of their own design, calling down piercing needles and blades of ice to attack their victims.

Lowering her hand, Violet paused briefly to examine her wound, her warm blood now seeping through her fingers and trailing down her arm.

"Violet, come on!" Heather cried, seizing her sibling's wrist and tugging her forward. "We have to keep going. We can't stay out here in this storm!"

Violet had only a moment to glance at one of the large pieces of ice shattered on the ground beside her, glimmering and sharp like fragments of broken glass before Heather pulled her forward towards the abandoned building up ahead.

The shares of ice continued to bite and slice into the young girls' exposed flesh as they ran, leaving them bleeding from over a dozen wounds and gashes each by the time they reached the steps of the old building.

Violet quickly flung the front door open, nearly getting swept off her feet as a gust of wind caught the frail and rotting door and roughly jerked the door wide open, slamming it against the side of the house.

Struggling against the raging winds, Violet managed to close the door with Heather's help as the two sisters pulled the door closed behind them once they were inside.

"What the hell was that?" Violet gasped, her back against the door as she slid down into a sitting position on the floor. "Where did that sudden storm come from?"

Before Heather could reply her sister shrieked and leapt up onto her feet. The older witch had accidently sat down in a large puddle of ice water. It was then that they realized there was several inches of standing water throughout the building with large holes in the ceiling and walls.

As Violet gazed down at the decaying wooden floorboards and freezing cold liquid pooling in large puddles throughout the house, the deep sound of malicious laughter began to fill the room, and terror gripped Violet's heart as the sound grew louder and louder, echoing off the walls and ringing in her ears.

She knew this voice. She didn't know from where but it was familiar to her, and she fell to her knees, the wicked laughter paralyzing her as it seemed to reverberate inside her head, filling her everevery nerve with fear and dread.

"Stop it!" she shouted, covering her ears with her hands. But the laughter refused to cease. Then, from within the echoing laughter a voice spoke to her.

"I know who you are, Violet Stregheria, but you do not recall your past. You have buried it deep inside yourself, and bleeding out the truth of your existence no longer serves as a reminder of who you were."

As the voice spoke a chilling wind began to fill the room, rattling the glass in the windows as the ragged, moth eaten curtains billowed in the gusts of wind. To Violet it felt as though the center of the wind was around her, swirling and rising like an arctic hurricane, and her vision began to blur as an icy mist formed around her.

The mist deepened, becoming a dense haze of grey fog, and from out of the fog a figure appeared, materializing from the fog as he walked towards her, his features indistinct and hazy, blurred around the edges due to the density of the frigid mist surrounding him.

The laughter in the air died away, fading suddenly as the driving winds grew stronger and the temperature in the room fell below freezing. It was then that Violet realized that this man who now stood before her was not affected by the wind or cold. His long white hair was still, untouched by the wind, as was his cloak and clothing.

Was he the one responsible for this storm? Was his magic creating the wind and ice?

He held out his hand, reaching towards her as he came closer. "Come," he whispered coldy. "Let us see how numb you really are."

Her eyes widening in horror, Violet tried to run. She didn't remember who this man was, but every fiber of her being was screaming at her to run and escape. But she was paralyzed, the swirling winds imprisoning her, freezing her to the spot, making her unable to move a single inch.

A cruel grin shown on the stranger's face as he glared at her. "Just as I thought. Your flesh cannot feel pain, but your blood is still warm, pulsing through your veins from within a heart more tender than your wounded soul."

He conjured a sword of shining crystal clear ice, and before Violet even had time to react he thrust the sword forward, plunging it into her chest through her heart.

Scabior awoke with a start as Violet screamed beside him in bed. He quickly sat up. The figure beside him was thrashing about in her sleep as she fought to escape the unknown assassin that haunted her nightmares.

"Violet!" Scabior called out, holding her down as she continued to scream and writhe in bed. "Violet, calm down. Snap out of it, pet."

The young witch's senses gradually began to return as she opened her eyes and gazed into the darkness of the tent. She could just make out Scabior's face as he sat beside her in bed.

"You alright, pet? Scabior queried, the blackness that surrounded him failing to conceal the concerned expression on his face.

Violet could hardly speak. Her nightmare, one of many that she'd been having recently, had upset her to the point of being practically beside herself with fright.

"No..." she whimpered, and began to cry.

It was then that Scabior did something most unexpected - he decided to comfort her.

Putting his arms around her Scabior held the crying witch as she continued to sob against his chest.

"Shh. 'Ush now, pet," he softly murmured. "It's alright. It was only a dream."

Despite how wild and rugged he was in appearane Scabior could be surprisingly gentle. He held her in his arms, rubbing her back and speaking soft, soothing words of comfort until she quieted down and began to relax.

When he released her Scabior reignited the candles on his desk with a flick of his wand. He then turned back to her, and looking closely at her he noticed that she was rather pale and sickly looking.

"Is something wrong?" Scabior asked. "You look a bit ill."

"I'm...I'm alright," Violet lied. "Just tired I guess."

"You don't look like you're alright to me, princess." Scabior smoothed her hair out of her face, noting the way she flinced and drew back when he reached to touch her.

Scabior frowned. "Is tha really necessary?" he asked, looking somewhat disappointed by her behavior as she flinched away from him.

Violet was silent.

"Fine then," Scabior sighed in annoyance. "But you'll learn to trust me eventually."

Brushing aside her hair he also noticed the dark circles beneath her olive green eyes. She looked ill and exhausted, and Scabior began to wonder just how long she'd been having nightmares and losing sleep.

"This isn't good, pet. There's obviously something wrong with you," he said. "You don't eat enough, you look as though you aren't getting enough sleep, an now this."

"I'm fine," Violet insisted. "Really I am."

"No, you're not," Scabior said firmly. "I can tell just by looking you. Apparently you 'ave more problems than I thought.'

Violet didn't know what to say to this man. He did seem genuinely concerned about her, but this kind of care and attention was practically unknown to her. Only her sister Heather had ever cared about her like this.

Drawing the blankets around her as she gazed down at the floor, Violet shivered as she felt a cold chill pass over her. Her pajamans weren't heavy enough to keep her warm, and now that she was fully awake she realized how cold she was.

Scabior cocked his head to the side as he looked at her. "Are you cold, pet?" he asked thoughtfully.

She nodded, wondering how it was that he wasn't freezing since he was wearing even less clothing than she was.

With a wave of his wand Scabior summoned his jacket from across the room where he had it draped across the back of the chair at his desk.

'Ere, sweet'eart. Put this on. It'll 'elp keep you warm."

Violet hesitated before allowing him to put his jacket on her.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked. His voice had become soft once more, almost like that of a person speaking carefully to a frightened and wounded animal in hopes of not scaring it away

"Yes, I am," Violet replied, and this time she wasn't lying. There was something comforting about being wrapped in Scabior's jacket. It made her feel warm and protected, and it smelled like him, the strong scent of damp forest leaves mingled with the spicy aroma of firewhiskey clinging to the worn black leather.

A faint smile creased the corners of his mouth and he nodded his approval. He seemed satisfied by her response and began to relax a little. She did appear to be feeling better for now, and he believed what she said. So he placed a hand on her shoulder and genty eased her onto her side in bed so that she was lying down beside him.

"Sleep, pet," he whispered softly, extinguishing the candles once more before laying down beside her in the dark, his warm breath lightly caressing her cheek as he settled down beside her.

\-----------------------

The day dawned cold and damp the next morning with ashen grey clouds filling the sky as a cold wind rustled the golden and deep crimson foliage in the forest trees. Summer was fading quickly as the first rains of early autumn now approached from the south.

Scabior was feeling restless. He knew that the new school year at Hogwarts had begun a few weeks ago, and based on the information he'd received Severus Snape would become the new headmaster of the school.

While Voldemort had ordered all the children to attend Hogwarts Scabior knew that there were students whose parents might attempt to keep them out of school now that it was being run by Death Eaters. There was also the chance that students might try to escape and flee the school, and Scabior was now anxious to move out and locate and capture some of these truants for a bit of extra gold.

His work had been temporarily delayed because of Violet and it was long past time to get back to his usual routine. But Scabior would soon discover that having Violet remain in his company wouild bring changes to his life and his world that he never expected.

"Where's Greyback?" Scabior asked, his blue eyes scanning the campsite for the werewolf as he ate his way through a large cheese omelet for breakfast. "Is it 'is time of the month again?"

"I think he said something about wanting to get a proper meal this morning," said Ranca.

"Lovely," Scabior sighed, rolling his eyes. He set his half eaten breakfast off to the side and withdrew his ivy wand from a pocket in his plaid pants. "I swear I need to put leash on the mutt."

Ranca watched as Scabior marched off into the woods, an angry scowl on his face as he left in search of Greyback.

Just as he was on the edge of their campsite, Scabior paused and glanced back over his shoulder.

"I want you lot to pack up an be ready to leave by the time I return," he said to the group of Snatchers sitting around the campfire. "We're moving to a new location after breakfast, so you'd best be ready to 'ead out." He then continued on his way into the forest.

It didn't take Scabior long to locate the wayward werewolf. He followed Greyback's tracks through the woods, leading him to a small clearing where Greyback was on his knees in the dirt eating the carcass of a freshly killed deer.

"You disgust me," said Scabior, walking up to Greyback.

"It's two days until the full moon," snarled Greyback, glaring up at Scabior as warm blood dripped off his chin onto the damp earth below. "What do you expect me to do? Order Chinese take out?"

Scabior curled his upper lip in disgust as Greyback sunk his yellowed teeth into the deer's side, tearing out a large chunk of raw flesh and chewing it. It was clear that he relished the taste of fresh uncooked meat, and as Scabior watched the werewolf devouring his meal the head Snatcher felt his stomach sour as he suddenly lost his appetite.

"'Urry it up," said Scabior, repressing the urge to vomit as he watched Greyback eat. "I've decided that we're 'eading out after breakfast this morning an I want everyone packed an ready to leave shortly."

Suddenly Greyback lifted his head, sniffing the air as he stared at something behind Scabior in the woods.

"What's that?" he asked.

Scabior quickly spun around, wand out as his sharp eyes scanned the surrounding woods.

"We're not alone," said Greyback, his voice a low, rumbling growl. "Someone is here, Scabior. I can smell them."

"Is there more than one?"

"No." Greyback paused, still scenting the air like a bloodhound. "I smell man."

Then they saw it. A tall dark figure shifted slightly in the distance, rustling the layer of dead leaves on the forest floor as he stepped into view.

Scabior was the fist to act, firing a stunning spell at the mysterious unknown figure. But his attack missed and struck a nearby tree, exploding in a shower of red glimmering sparks as the unknown figure disapparated before the hex could hit its intended target.

"Wha the 'ell was that?!" Scabior shouted, furious that his target had somehow managed to escape. "Where did 'e go? Find 'im now, Greyback!"

The two Snatchers searched the surrounding woods but they could not locate a single trace of the intruder that had entered the forest.

By the time Scabior and Greyback returned to camp the rest of the Snatchers had already packed their belongings, folded up their tents and were ready to leave. They wondered why Scabior and Greyback had been gone so long, but most of them were too afraid to ask why because they could tell by the expression on Scabior's face that he was angry about something.

"Uh sir, is something wrong?" Ranca asked as Scabior stomped into camp with Greyback following close behind. His reply came in the form of Scabior angrily kicking one of the burnt logs in the campfire and sending it soaring off into the distance in a shower of splintered wood and dirt.

There weren't many people who escaped Scabior once he set his sights on them. Whoever was in the woods that morning that had eluded capture did so only because luck was on their side. But the next time the stranger met Scabior they would not be so fortunate.


	5. Of Ashes & Embers

The Snatchers moved their camp to a dense forest a few miles from a small village. Scabior was planning a raid on the village because he'd recently received information that there were school age children being hidden there. He had discovered this useful information after interrogating a group of muggleborns he'd captured a few days earlier, and now he was ready to start putting his plans in motion.

Scabior looked forward to the raid for he knew that, if he was successful, he would be rewarded by the ministry with a large amount of gold. And not only that but raids always provided him with a chance to snatch a few females to bring back to camp for his pleasure.

Money, women and plenty of alcohol. Those were Scabior's favorite things. And as long as he got paid, and was able to drink and indulge in frequent sexual activities with any female he chose, he was happy. Nothing else mattered. He did what he wanted, made his own rules and always put himself and his own needs first. He'd lived that way for so long now he had nearly forgotten any other means of existence.

But something was different this time. As Scabior sat with his men around the campfire discussing the details of his planned attack on the village, his mind was heavy with distracting thoughts. His concerns for Violet were growing by the day, and try as he might he couldn't seem to force his mind to fully focus on the task at hand.

She was always there, lingering on the very edge of his mind. And that was where she remained as the cold night drew in around the dark forest, surrounding it, enclosing the trees in a shroud of icy stillness. It was the calm before the storm, the night air damp with the promise of approaching rain as Scabior lead his men into the village.

The screams from the villagers rent the night air, mingling with the crackling flames as several houses were set on fire. Morvin laughed, running through the village and casting Incendio to flush out the more stubborn victims that refused to leave their homes, while Silis and Greyback drug the helpless women and children from the houses and proceeded to chain them up in the center of the village.

Scabior and Ranca worked closely together, dueling and subduing the wizards that fought in vain to protect their families and their homes.

Jeremy kept watch over the prisoners, and kept an eye out for anyone who managed to escape being rounded up and captured.

The chilling winds grew in strength, picking at the burning embers and carrying them along across the blackened skies above like glimmering amber stars. Scabior could feel the intense heat of the flames, fanned by the winds that flicked his scarf over his shoulder, his long hair trailing behind him as his jacket rippled on the wind.

This night, as well as the storm, was his own. He felt it pounding in his heart and within the very blood that rushed though his veins. His eyes sparkling in the firelight as blazing embers danced on the wind, Scabior felt himself come to life in the night, with the elements surging through him, giving him strength, driving him to fight.

Two wizards, enraged by the Snatchers' attack on their village, charged at him, bellowing curses as they ran. But Scabior could not be felled by their combined strength no matter how strong their fury and hatred for him. He dueled them both at once, his wand motions fluid and swift, dodging their attacks, shielding himself, and finally combining a curse of his own with those of his attackers as he reflected their spells back at them. His foes were then blasted back by an explosion of black and gold flames, and sent soaring several feet into the air where they crashed into the remains of a burning building, striking the earth with such force that they were rendered unconscious.

A satisfied grin spread across Scabior's face as he watched his victims collapse.

"Come out now! All of you!" he shouted into the night. "Those of you tha give yourself up without a fight will not be 'armed. If you resist, you can expect no mercy."

"Scabior!" a voice called out from behind. The head Snatcher turned and saw Greyback forcefully removing a struggling young woman from one of the buildings. Her wrists were chained together behind her back, and there was a deep bloody gash across her forehead as well as burns across her arms.

"Look what we've got here," Greyback cackled. "I found you a good one, didn't I?"

Scabior paused, staring at the woman across a burning plane of smoldering ash and ruin. Their eyes met momentarily before Scabior turned away, unable to look at her.

"Keep 'er," Scabior said dryly.

Greyback looked at him with astonishment etched into the cruel features of his face. "You're serious?"

"Yes," Scabior spat with annoyance, his tone sharp and irritated. He seemed distracted by something. "Take 'er. She's yours."

Greyback grinned, bearing his yellowed teeth in a wolfish smile. "Looks like it's just you and me, girlie," he growled before dragging the woman off into the woods behind the village.

In the hours that followed Scabior and his Snatchers rounded up the villagers then went through them one by one, checking off their names on the list. This wasn't always easy, with crying children and uncooperative adults that were giving false names or begging and pleading for their families to be spared, the job could sometimes be time consuming and difficult.

"Shut it!" Scabior yelled, kicking one of the children in the side. "If there's one thing I can't stand it's squally arse little brats!"

The young child, a blond haired boy around twelve years old, was chained to his grandmother and four other people that had been captured from the village. He immediately stopped crying as the pain from his broken rib had stolen the breath from his lungs.

"Wha's this one's name?" Scabior asked, pointing to the injured twelve year old boy.

"Smith..." the boy's grandmother said between sobs. "Thomas Smith."

"Really?" Scabior flipped through the pages of his book and smirked. "This boy 'as 'is name down at 'Ogwarts. Care to explain why 'e isn't in school?"

At this the boy's grandmother broke down in tears and was unable to speak.

Scabior ignored her cries, and turning to face his men with a sinister smile he said, "We got a good 'aul tonight. This will bring us a fair amount of gold when we deliver them to the ministry first thing tomorrow morning."

The Snatchers brought their prisoners back to camp. The muggleborns would fetch them the most gold. Hogwarts truants were also worth a fair amount of money though not as much. As for the women they captured, Scabior's men would find a good use for them before handing them over to the ministry.

After the prisoners were secure inside one of the tents at camp, Scabior, Jeremy and Ranca went back to the remains of the village to salvage what they could from the few buildings that hadn't been burned to the ground, bringing back a decent amount of food and drink, mainly alcohol gathered by Scabior who found several bottles of firewhiskey.

That night the Snatchers stayed up late and had a grand feast to celebrate their success. Everyone ate and drank, with some of the Snatchers finding pleasure in their captive female companions. However Scabior did not choose a female from his selection of prisoners. For once he left the women alone for Violet was still his main concern. She was more important to him than they were.

\--------------------

It was nearly four thirty in the morning when Scabior entered his tent and began to get ready for bed. Violet had fallen asleep in his bed, still in her day clothes, earlier that evening and awoke when she heard the sound of running water in the bathroom.

She blinked her eyes, her vision a blurry haze as she strained her ears to try and identify the sounds she heard coming from nearby. She was exhausted, having barely slept more than a couple hours over the past week and wasn't fully awake when Scabior entered the room minutes later with a faded grey towel in his hands that he was using to dry his hair.

"My apologies, sweet'eart," said Scabior, vigorously rubbing his hair with the towel. "I didn't mean to disturb your rest, especially since you need more sleep."

"Mmm..." Violet mumbled sleepily, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Scabior finished drying his hair then slung the damp towel over his shoulder. He walked up to the bed and gently lifted Violet's limp form up onto the side of the bed and into a sitting position.

"Sorry, pet," he said softly. "I'll make this as quick as I can. Then you relax an get back to sleep."

Violet didn't speak or protest as Scabior vanishd her clothes with a wave of his wand, giving her body a brief once over as he checked to make sure there were no fresh wounds on her skin. He then promptly redressed her in her tank top and pajama bottoms with a second wave of his wand, then eased the blankets back on his bed and laid her down to rest.

"Heather," Violet murmured as Scabior covered her with the blankets. "Where's my...where's my baby sister?'

A sudden surge of sympathy filled Scabior's heart as he gazed down at her.

"Poor girl," he whispered. "You aren't even aware of where you're at, are you?"

Scabior was correct. Violet was barely aware of herself or her surroundings. Ill from exhaustion and from carrying such a heavy weight of emotional stress she had finally collapsed into a deep state of sleep.

Scabior sighed and settled into bed besides her. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about her, but the rest of the Snatchers didn't need to know that right now.

He smoothed the hair out of her face, gazing at her for several minutes as he watched her sleep. Her chest slowly rose and fell with each deep breath, and for now her sleep appeared to be untroubled by nightmares or disturbing dreams.

Shifting slightly beneath the warm comforter, Scabior bit his bottom lip as he felt a stirring of arousal in his loins. He knew that most of his lot had chosen to bed a few of the captive females they'd brought home tonight and that he could easily take Violet right now where she lay in his bed. But something in his heart and in the back of his mind told him not to. Something held him back, forcing him to rein in his desires and control the lust he felt burning deep within.

'Not tonight,' he told himself. 'Some other time per'aps..."

\----------------------

Scabior awoke to the sounds of heavy rain pelting the canvas of his tent. The storm that began to arrive late last night was still going strong outside with winds whipping the branches of the trees, stripping them of their crimson, gold and faded green foliage. Though to Scabior it felt more like there were two storms going on, one outside and the other taking place inside his head as he now had a horrible headache from drinking too much the night before.

He got out of bed, being careful not to disturb the sleeping witch in bed beside him, and staggered towards the bathroom, his head throbbing with intense pain.

For a moment he thought he was going to be sick and fought against the urge to vomit as he quickly yanked open the door on the medicine cabinet above the sink and removed a bottle of deep green liquid. He unstoppered the potion bottle and took a swig of the thick fluid, feeling it coat the back of his throat and esophagus as he swallowed it. It was a hangover relief potion, and if Scabior could manage to keep it down for a minute or two he would soon begin to feel much better.

Scabior groaned as a sudden wave of nausea caused his insides to churn uncomfortably. He gagged and quickly clamped a hand over his mouth as he leaned over the bathroom sink, his vision swimming as his stomach continued to rebel against him. Closing his eyes, he willed himself with all his strength not to get sick. Finally the potion he drank began to take effect and the contents of his stomach settled as the pain in his head gradually subsided.

In a short while Scabior began feeling better and proceeded with his morning routine as usual, brushing his teeth and washing his face before putting on eyeliner and tying his wild hair back with a black ribbon and getting dressed.

Breakfast was a quick and simple affair that morning made up of leftovers from last night's celebratory feast. It was too cold and wet to go outside and cook something over the fire, so Scabior stayed inside and prepared a meal of soup, two different kinds of bread with butter and jam, and a large jug of pumpkin juice.

When he woke Violet for breakfast she was still rather sickly looking and lethargic and was uninterested in any sort of food that he offered her.

"Come on, pet. You 'ave to eat something before we leave this morning," said Scabior, trying his best to gently persuade her to eat her breakfast.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To the ministry of magic," Scabior replied. "I 'ave to take the lot we snatched last night into the ministry an you're coming with me."

Violet sadly hung her head. "So you finally decided to turn me in and get rid of me."

"No, pet. It's not like tha at all. It's tha I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone like this when you aren't feeling well."

She didn't believe him, but long about now she honestly didn't care anymore. She had no hope of escaping or ever finding her lost sister, and she was beginning to think it would be nice if someone would do her a favor and put her out of her misery.

"I'm not leaving until you eat something," Scabior persisted. "You're going to need your strength for the trip to the ministry, an you'd probably feel better if you 'ad something in your stomach."

"But I can't..."

"Yes, you can," said Scabior, picking up a slice of pumpkin bread. "You can an you will. Or else I will feed this to you myself."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Violet asked. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, I don't know. Per'aps it's because I actually give a damn about you and would prefer it if you didn't die of starvtion," said Scabior, the gentleness in his voice fading as his patience began to wear thin.

"Oh maybe you just want to keep me alive long enough to turn me over to the ministry."

"They wouldn't pay me a single galleon for you because of your blood purity."

"That's a lie," Violet shot back, now fully awake and feeling quite angry and irritable. "I support Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. For all you know I could have contacts within the Order or important information about them. I might not be worth as much as the muggleborns you usually snatch, but I'm sure they'd pay you something for me."

"You are worth more to me than I think you realize," said Scabior, trying his best to control his temper as his anger and frustration grew with each passing second. "Now I'm only going to tell you one more time to eat your damn breakfast before I shove it down your throat!"

Violet was rendered speechless by his words. The last thing she expected was to hear how much she was worth to him. But was he really telling the truth? Or was he simply lying to her?

Unable to find her voice or think of a response, Violet took the slice of pumpkin bread from him and began to eat. She ate a few more slices and drank some water. It wasn't exactly what Scabior would call a decent meal but it was better than nothing.

"Tha's better," said Scabior, draining the last drops from his second glass of pumpkin juice. "Now get dressed. We're leaving in twenty minutes."


	6. Fallen Angel

The rain was still steadily drumming the earth as Violet, the Snatchers and their prisoners left for the Ministry of Magic. And as they arrived in London they soon saw that the weather there wasn't much better. If anything it was worse, with strong winds driving the rain across the city in sheets.

Scabior and the others apparated onto a street corner a couple blocks away from the ministry. Since they were travelling in a large group Scabior had cast a disillusionment charm on everyone but himself and Violet before they left in order to avoid arousing attention from the muggles passing by on the street.

"Stay close to me," said Scabior, wrapping his arm around Violet's arm, gripping her tightly to prevent her from running away. He raised a hand to his forehead, shielding his vision from the pouring rain as he glanced up at the black storm clouds overhead. "Bloody 'ell. Just my luck tha we 'ave to make a trip out during the first major storm of the season."

Scabior continued muttering obscenities under his breath, his jacket whipping out around his sides in the wind as he lead his men and prisoners towards the entrance of the ministry. Within minutes his hair and clothing was dripping wet and Scabior was now beginning to wish he'd chosen a location closer to the ministry to apparate to when they'd first arrived.

When they approached the stairway leading towards what appeared to be an ordinary underground public restroom, Scabior took one quick look around to make sure they weren't being watched before hauling Violet down the steps and through the door marked 'gentlemen.'

Scabior was determined to not let Violet out of his sight for a single second. And though he had told her in advance before they left about where they were going and how the toilets in the restroom connected to the Ministry of Magic, Violet was surprised when Scabior forced her into the men's bathroom with him and unceremoniously stuffed her into a stall. He hadn't told her he would do that and she let out a shrill shriek as the stall door slammed behind them.

"What're you doing?" she cried. "This is the men's bathroom. I'm not supposed to be in here!"

"We're going together," Scabior replied, stepping into the toilet. "I'll not risk the chance of you running off the moment we're seperated."

He took her by the hand and hoisted her up into the porcelain bowl with him. It was a rather tight fit with Violet standing on Scabior's feet. And needless to say they both looked rather awkward standing there together in a toilet.

"Is this really necessary?" Violet asked.

"To me it is," said Scabior.

Violet sighed. After everything she had been through lately now she was going to get flushed down a toilet. She decided to just go with it. It's not like there was anything she could do about it anyway.

Scabior reached up, pulled the chain, and the next moment they were both sent sliding down a short chute, emerging from a fireplace in the Ministry of Magic in a crumpled heap on the polished hardwood floor.

The chutes into the ministry weren't meant for two people to travel down them at a time, and Scabior practically fell on top of Violet as they tumbled and rolled across the floor.

All around them people were stopping to look and stare. Witches and wizards alike, curious as to what was going on, turned their heads to look as Scabior lay sprawled out across Violet, his jacket fanned out around him and his wet scarf dripping ice cold rain water into her face.

Violet felt heat rising in her cheeks despite having just been outside in the frigid autumn storm. She blushed bright red, realizing the compromising position that she and Scabior were both in as they lay on the floor.

A tall man with greying hair tied back in a long braid approached them. "Business as usual I see, Scabior," he said with a smirk as he looked down at them.

"Not 'ardly," came Scabior's muffled reply, his face buried in Violet's cloak. He raised himself up on the palms of his hands, tugging the tangled mess of deep plum colored material off his head as he looked up at the grey haired wizard. "Even I 'ave enough sense not to do tha' in public, Yaxley."

Yaxley smiled and nodded. "Of course you do."

Scabior glared at him before getting to his feet and removing his wand from a pocket in his jacket. He turned to face the fireplace and called out, "Is everyone 'ere yet?"

"Yes, boss," came Ranca's voice three feet from Scabior's left. "All are safe and accounted for, sir."

With a wave of his wand Scabior removed the disillusion charm he'd placed on them earlier.

Yaxley gasped and took a step back, surprised by the sudden appearance of over a dozen wizards and witches.

"Three mudbloods an four 'ogwarts truants," Scabior said proudly, a smug smile on his face as he looked back at Yaxley. "I'll easily make over a 'undred galleons with this lot."

"And what about that one?" Yaxley asked, pointing to Violet.

Violet, who had gotten to her feet and was now standing a few feet from Scabior, froze on the spot. This was it. Scabior would tell them who she was and it would all be over.

"She's my..." Scabior hesitated for a fraction of a second, "new woman."

Violet's heart dropped like a stone into her stomach.

"Oh really?" Yaxley raised an eyebrow. "So it really is business as usual then?"

Scabior slipped has arm around Violet's waist, easing her along in the direction of the golden elevator as Yaxley chuckled and laughed.

"We'll be on our way now," he said curtly, ignoring Yaxley's amused laughter. "Come on you lot, move out," he added over his shoulder to his band of Snatchers.

Ranca hastened to obey Scabior's orders, immediately leading the rest of the Snatchers and prisoners after Scabior and into the elevator.

Once everyone was inside the elevator Scabior cast a simple charm to dry up the excessive amount of rain water that had soaked into everyone's clothes and hair. Within seconds everyone was dry but Violet remained cold and shivering despite having her clothes magically dried by Scabior's charm.

"Something wrong, pet?" Scabior queried as the elevator gradually began its descent. Violet had not spoken a word since he informed Yaxley that she was his "new woman." The incredulous shock brought about by his choice of words had once again rendered her speechless. She now stood shivering in a corner of the elevator by herself, her thin purple cloak tightly wrapped around her body for warmth as she attempted to distance herself from Scabior as best as she could and rid herself of the memory of being called his woman.

Scabior moved closer to Violet. He slipped his arm around her, hugging her trembling body close to his. This time she didn't fight him. She didn't know what to think about him anymore, and long about now she was too tired to think about anything. So she remained quiet, leaning against him with her head nestled against his chest.

It was then that she realized how good it felt to be held by him. The warmth of his body and steady beat of his heart felt comforting, soothing her frayed nerves. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the familiar aroma of firewhiskey and damp forest leaves. A small smile appeared on her lips and slowly she reached up and put her arm around Scabior.

After he turned in his prisoners Scabior spent some time in Umbridge's office filling out all the necessary paperwork that always came with bringing in muggleborns. Umbridge praised him for his work, which meant a lot to him because he knew she didn't dole out complements very often.

During this time Violet stayed outside Umbridge's office with Ranca watching over her. As much as Scabior wanted them to stay together he did not wish to subject her to Umbridge's scrutinizing glares and questions regarding her life story, who she was, and where she came from.

Scabior knew that it was dangerous to risk bringing Violet to the Ministry of Magic, what with the ministry being interested in her due to her closeness with the Order of the Phoenix. He also knew it was unwise to leave her alone, especially since she was currently ill and suffering from exhaustion. But Scabior didn't have much of a choice. Violet was in no fit state to be left alone. The only good thing working in her favor was that her blood purity greatly diminished her value, causing her to be overlooked in favor of more valuable individuals. And with half the ministry focusing mainly on the capture of Harry Potter and the rest of them working towards completely abolishing muggleborns one lone pureblood witch was liable to go unnoticed so long as a bit of luck was on her side.

Upon completing the paperwork with Umbridge Scabior departed her office, returning to the corridor outside where Ranca was standing next to Violet.

Violet was shivering though not as badly as before. She looked absolutely miserable, and as Scabior approached her she looked up at him with curiosity and vexation on her tired face.

"Scabior," she said quietly. "Why did you tell that man that I'm your new woman?"

Scabior placed a hand on her shoulder. "Now isn't the time or place to discuss tha, pet. We need to get you back to camp first."

Scabior paid his men their share of the gold they had earned, giving Ranca a bit more gold than the others. When the other Snatchers began to grumble and complain about Ranca getting more money than they did Scabior explained that Ranca had an errand to run for him and that he would need to buy a few things in Diagon Alley.

"You've all been given your fair share," Scabior said to his band of Snatchers. "Now I want all of you to 'ead back to camp except Ranca. 'E 'as a job to do."

One by one the Snatchers began to depart until only Violet, Scabior and Ranca were alone in the corridor.

"How may I serve you, sir?" Ranca asked politely.

Scabior looked down at the young Snatcher and smiled. Out of all the people he had working for him Ranca was the most loyal and obedient of them all. He was hardworking and dependable. Scabior knew that he could rely on him for any task no matter how big or small the job was.

"I want you to go to Diagon Alley an buy Violet some new clothes, preferably something warm that'll keep 'er from catching pneumonia in the cold winter months ahead," said Scabior.

Ranca nodded. "Yes, boss. Shall I meet you back at camp afterwards or is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

"No, Ranca. That'll be all. You can rejoin the others once you've finished your errand. An be sure to buy 'er something with a bit of style. I want to make sure she looks good as well as being warm an comfortable."

Ranca nodded once more then turned and made his way down the corridor.

"Well pet, it looks like it's just you an me now," said Scabior, once again wrapping his arm around her. "Come on, sweet'eart. Let's get you 'ome."

Scabior immediately put Violet to bed as soon as they returned to camp. Her health was getting worse and Scabior was now fairly certain that she was coming down with a cold.

"Looks like you've caught a bit of a chill there, pet," said Scabior, adding another blanket to his bed to help keep Violet warm. When this didn't seem to help he tried casting a warming charm on his bed. This worked well and Violet finally stopped shivering and began to warm up.

Scabior sat down on the side of the bed. He spoke softly to her words of reassurance and comfort as he combed his fingers through her hair. Her eyes drifted closed and she began to fall asleep. Soon she was sound asleep with Scabior quietly watching over her as she slept.

\----------------

In the days and weeks that followed Scabior continued to care for Violet to the best of his abilities. He was by no means a healer, and he sometimes became frustrated when she argued with him and refused his help. But slowly Scabior began to earn her trust, and over time she began to recover her health.

Scabior was right when he said Violet was damaged goods and that she needed more than regular meals and sleep in order to recover. She was lonesome, depressed and in desperate need of a good dose of love and affection. Real tender loving care. Her little sister had always loved her, and now that Heather was missing Violet had reached an all time low. Without her Violet felt like there was nothing left, like her only reason for living was gone. Her sister was everything to her and she couldn't imagine her life without her.

But sometimes help can come from a most unexpected place, and finding comfort in the form of a Snatcher was the last thing she expected.

At first she was cautious, keeping her distance from Scabior whenever possible. She was also quiet, refusing to engage in coversation with him. Many of their days were spent in silence, usually because Scabior became angry and stormed out of the tent when his continuous efforts to befriend her had failed once again. Violet would then cry alone in Scabior's tent while the head Snatcher went for a walk in the forest to calm down and clear his head.

It wasn't easy for either of them, but as the days wore on things gradually began to improve. Scabior and Violet began talking and she allowed him to get closer to her and help when she needed help. There were still some difficult moments at times because none of their issues could be easily remedied overnight.

One incident occurred about a month after Scabior had snatched Violet. They had had another row and Violet was upset, crying and yelling at him that she wanted to leave so she could find her sister. Scabior told her that he couldn't let her go because she was in no fit state to go anywhere just yet. He then promised her that, when she was well again, he would help her find her sister.

"I don't believe you!" Violet shouted. "And do you honestly think I'd want to let someone like you around my baby sister?"

"Right," Scabior sneered. "Because I have nothing but torture you since you arrived."

"You've prevented me from leaving and continuing my search for her."

"Tha's because I'm trying to 'elp you. Do you think you'd really be able to find 'er in the 'alf starved, sleep deprived state you're in? An do you really want your sister to see you in this sorry state?"

Violet paused, unsure of what to say in response to his question.

"Your sister obviously loves you very much an means a lot to you," Scabior continued. "I don't think she would want to see wha you've become in 'er absence. When you find 'er, you shouldn't look like you've just spent a year in Azkaban prison."

"She could be dead by now for all you care," Violet shot back.

"I do care," Scabior ground out between his teeth, furious that she once again wasn't listening to him. "An you should be damn grateful tha I'm offering my services to you to 'elp you find 'er. I'm a Snatcher, an expert at tracking an locating people. I could probably find 'er in a week or less if you would just cooperate with me."

Violet sniffed, her olive green eyes burning with amber flames as she glared at him, hot tears streaming down her face. Even she had to admit that he had a point. He had been trying his best to help her and make her feel better.

"Sit down, princess," said Scabior, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her down into a sitting position on his bed. "You need to calm yourself. You're not doing yourself or your sister any favors by getting so upset."

"Let go of me!" Violet cried, and Scabior yelped and backed away, releasing her as scorching flames suddenly sprang to life, burning the exposed flesh of his right hand.

Scabior quickly drew his wand, his left hand withdrawing the length of ivy wood from a pocket in his jacket as the flames raced up his right arm towards his elbow.

"Aguamenti!" he cried, jabbing his wand at his right arm. A cooling jet of water flew from the tip of his wand, extinguishing the flames. He then held up his hand to examine it more closely, checking to see if any serious damage had been done.

While he was examining his burned hand, Violet stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. She had hurt him, Scabior, the man who had given up his time and his money to make her comfortable, to make her feel better, the man who wrapped her in his jacket when she was cold, comforted her when she couldn't sleep, and offered to help her find her missing sister. Violet suddenly felt a sharp pang of regret stab her heart. He really was trying hard to help her...and this is how she repaid him for his help.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Scabior," she murmured.

"You're sorry?!" Scabior snapped at her, practically yelling, his words coming harsher than he'd intended. He looked up from his burned and inflamed palm, fixing her with a vicious stare that made her shrink back in fear. His insides were boiling with rage and he wanted nothing more than to hex her for attacking him.

Scabior took a deep breath, willing himself with all his strength to remain calm. "It's fine, pet. Don't worry about it. Merlin knows I've 'ad worse."

"But I really am sorry, Scabior," said Violet.

Scabior said nothing as he silently conjured bandages that wrapped themselves around his right hand. He was biting his tongue to keep himself from telling her off.

When he finished dressing his burned hand and looked back at her, Scabior could see real genuine regret in Violet's eyes. He also saw tears of remorse and sadness as well. She was on the verge of crying again.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Violet, don't."

"Scabior..."

"Just calm yourself. Breathe, pet. Take a few deep breaths and relax. It'll 'help you clear you 'ead an prevent you from 'aving another accident."

Violet did as he said, her heart rate beginning to slow as she gradually became calmer.

"I'm so sorry, Scabior," she said. "I don't know what came over. It was an accident."

"It's going to be alright, pet," said Scabior. "I can 'elp you, but you're going to have to trust me."

"I do," said Violet. "I see that now. I trust you, Scabior."

"Do you really mean tha?"

"Yes."

Scabior sat down on the bed beside her, and looking deep into her eyes he said, "Then you 'ave nothing to worry about. I will take care of you an we will find your sister. I promise."

\---------------

Time passed. The green colors of the forest leaves faded as summer drew to a close and autumn turned the surrounding woods into a sea of rippling waves of amber and gold. October followed quickly after September, and before long the chilling winds that filled the gullies and made the fallen leaves rise and dance in the air brought with it the first hint of approaching winter as a light dusting of frost covered the earth late one November night.

As the crystals of frost gradually accumulated on the forest floor and the various bushes and plants, Scabior and Violet were warm and comfortable in bed in Scabior's tent. Violet had been sleeping better during the past couple of weeks, and as she and Scabior grew closer together Violet often found herself engaged in pleasant conversations with him before they went to sleep at night, and tonight was no exception.

"You're looking very lovely this evening, sweet'eart," said Scabior, smiling as he took a lock of her hair between his fingers and tucked it behind her ear.

Violet smiled back at him, her cheeks blushing deep red. "You always say that, Scabior. Though I really don't think I'm anything special to look at."

"Tha's your problem, pet. You tend to undervalue yourself. But you really are quite beau'iful."

Her eyes moved up to Scabior's face, taking in his appearance as they lay facing each other in bed. He looked different at night, with his hair down and his eyeliner washed off before he went to bed.

She tentatively reached towards him and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Your hair is so beautiful," she softly murmured. "And it's so soft."

"I know," Scabior said, still smiling.

He lay still for a couple minutes, relaxing as she continued to run her fingers through his lush mane of long dark hair. His eyes drifted closed, his body unconsciously leaning into her touch as she stroked and caressed his hair.

It felt good to have a woman touch him. Even though she was only playing with his hair he couldn't ignore the amount of pleasure he felt as her fingers delved deeper into his tangled tresses, the tips of her nails lightly brushing against his scalp. He thought briefly of her hands tangled in his hair, holding on tightly as she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning his name as he leaned over her, his breath hot on her neck as he repeatedly thrust into her.

Leaning even closer to her, Scabior's lips parted slightly as he exhaled a long deep breath, his breathing becoming heavier as he once again felt the heat of arousal stir in his loins.

He was so close now. Close enough that he could kiss her if he wanted to...put his arms around her, pull her close and deeply, passionately kiss her. But was it too soon for that sort of behavior? Would she allow him to get that close to her right now?

"Scabior."

The sound of her voice broke his train of thought, his mind returning to the present as visions of him and Violet engaged in acts of lustful passion left his thoughts.

"Hmm?" His eyes opened and he found himself gazing into her olive green eyes mere inches away from her face.

"What is this?" she asked him.

Violet had eased Scabior's hair back and away from the left side of his neck, revealing a series of numbers tattooed along the side of his neck.

Scabior's eyes widened. She had discovered the mark he had obtained during his time in prison, a mark he usually tried to hide with his hair and the scarf he often wore.

Backing away from her, Scabior's hand instinctively rubbed the side of his neck where the prison numbers had been magically burned into his flesh.

"Tha's um...tha's my prison number," he said, hesitating somewhat before he spoke. "I've been in Azkaban, an everyone who is sent there 'as a mark like this."

"What were you sent to prison for?" Violet queried, her tone surprisingly sympathetic instead of the usual repulsed and horrified response his mark normally received.

Scabior wasn't expecting this. He was used to being hated, to having people abhor him. But the look of concern and mild curiosity in Violet's eyes was genuine. She wasn't shrinking away from him the way others did when they learned he'd spent time in prison.

But Scabior couldn't bring himself to tell her about his past. There were things that had happened to him that were still too horrible, too painful to discuss...certain things that were private and he didn't know if he could ever tell her about how he had ended up in prison.

"I'd rather not talk about it," said Scabior, becoming suddenly distant.

"Can you tell me how long you were in prison?" Violet persisted, in hopes he might tell her something about his time in Azkaban.

"No," Scabior replied. "But only because I don't remember most of my time there myself. I..." He paused, his left hand moving from his neck to his brow. He rubbed his temples, staring down at the blankets on his bed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, slowly lowering his hand then shaking his head. "It's all a blur to me. I think I must 'ave been unconscious most of the time. An the dementors..." It was at this point that Scabior's voice gave out on him and he turned away, unable to speak.

"Scabior?" Violet spoke softly, gazing at the Snatcher's silent form as he rolled over in bed with his back facing her. "Scabior, what's wrong?"

But Scabior remained silent.

Violet placed her hand on his shoulder. "Scabior, please tell me what's wrong. You've been kind enough to help me when I've had problems. Maybe I could help you now."

"Get your bloody 'ands off me!" he shouted, sitting bolt upright in bed and shoving her away from him. "I don't need your 'elp! An I told you I don't remember wha 'appened while I was in Azkaban. So there's nothing for us to discuss."

Scabior's blue eyes were blazing with anger as he glared at her. But as Violet's eyes met with his she saw something else hidden deep within the pale blue depths of those burning orbs.

And then she saw it. From within the black spaces of her innermost thoughts a vision of Scabior materialized in her mind.

She could see Scabior lying on his back in a prison cell, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he stared up at the ceiling. His clothes were torn and ragged, bloodstained and filthy. His entire body was shaking violently, shivering uncontrollably as a bone chilling cold filled the air. He appeared to be drifting in and out consciousness, unable to move an inch from where he lay.

Outside the cell door a tall man with long blond hair was shouting something at someone further down the hall.

"Get him out of there!" the blond wizard bellowed furiously, banging the silver snake head that was attached to his polished black walking stick against Scabior's cell door. "Quickly! There's no time!"

Moments later the door opened and a pair of hands from out of the gloom grasped Scabior's limp form and carried him out of his cell.

Scabior was scarcely breathing, his body bruised and aching with tremendous pain that radiated down the length of every nerve in his body. All he knew was pure, paralyzing agony and freezing cold...and the blackness clouding the edges of his vision, surrounding him, beckoning him down into a gentle release from his torment.

His head lolling to the side as his eyes drifted closed, Scabior gave one last shuddering breath before losing consciousness, the blackness enveloping him at last.

Violet blinked as her vision cleared. The blackness returned to fill her mind as the vision ended and she found herself staring at Scabior's angry face. She wasnt sure what just happened or why those images had presented themselves to her in her mind. She didn't even know if what she'd seen was real or not. But somehow she felt she knew the answer. She knew what lie beneath the anger in Scabior's eyes, and it was hurt.

"You've been hurt before, haven't you, Scabior?" she asked him.

"Wha?" His anger instantly forgotten, Scabior looked at her with a mixture of stunned curiosity, completely unable to speak.

"You have, haven't you?" Violet continued. "Someone did something to you. You've been hurt physically...and you've been hurt here." She placed her hand on his bare chest over his heart.

Scabior's mouth opened but no words came out. He simply stared down at her hand for several long silent seconds before looking up into her eyes, which were now shining with a light he'd never seen before...a sort of calm and quiet knowledge that glimmered faintly in the corners of her olive green eyes.

How could she possibly know what had happened to him? Was it possible that this little witch was some kind of seer? No, that was highly unlikely. In the past few months that he had known her she hadn't shown any sign of being unusually gifted with magic. Of course she hadn't been allowed the use of her wand since being captured by the Snatchers, but still she seemed to be nothing more than an average ordinary witch. Well, ordinary except for a few emotional issues, but no one is perfect.

When Scabior finally found his voice he gripped her wrist and eased her hand off his chest and said, "I've lead a very long an difficult life, pet. Many things 'ave 'urt me. But wha doesn't kill me only makes me stronger."

He sighed heavily and ran a hand back through his unruly hair. "I never meant for my life to become wha it is, pet," he said slowly. "I didn't want to become a Death Eater, so I became a Snatcher instead, thinking tha would be a better option...thinking I could save my family if I did. I thought tha if I 'ad to do something wrong in order to do something right it would justify my actions. But it didn't work out the way I planned, an now everything tha I do I do because I 'ave to in order to survive.

"I've made a lot of mistakes, pet. An tha's wha landed me in prison. Tha's why I've been 'urt. But I do wha I 'ave to to get by. I do the best I can. It just doesn't always work out for me."

There was a long silence that followed. Then, Violet lay back in bed, and looking over at him she asked, "What do you think will happen when this war is finally over?"

"I don't know," Scabior replied wearily. He looked tired and worn, the lines on his face seemed deeper somehow as he sat illuminated in the flickering light of the candles on his desk. "I suppose it depends on which side wins the war."

"What happens when the Dark Lord is defeated?"

Scabior snorted. "You mean if 'e is defeated, pet."

"You don't think he can be stopped?"

"To tell you the truth, pet, I 'onestly don't know." Scabior lay down in bed beside her again, fluffing his pillow a bit before settling down in bed. "'E's in such a position of power right now tha it doesn't look good for those tha are working against 'im. 'Owever, 'e 'as to 'ave a weakness. Everyone does. But wha tha is an 'ow someone could exploit it is beyond me, sweet'eart. It may be beyond any of us right now."

Violet thought about this for a while. The idea of Lord Voldemort having some sort of weakness seemed almost impossible. And yet there in that very sentence was the key word - almost. Though it seemed unlikely, Violet had to admit that Scabior had a point. No one person could ever be without a weakness of some kind. Voldemort had to have something that made him vulnerable, that made the monstrous abomination that he had become more human like everyone else.

"What about you?" Violet asked. "What'll happen to you if the Dark Lord falls?"

"I'd probably end up in prison again," said Scabior. "The only reason I'm able to snatch people an get paid for it is because of the Dark Lord. Without 'im around I'd be seen as nothing but a common criminal."

The thought of Scabior being imprisoned again didn't sit well with Violet. She was beginning to grow rather fond of him and didn't want him locked away in a horrible place such as Azkaban.

Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because Scabior noticed the worried expression and asked her what was wrong.

"I'm fine," she told him, hesitating somewhat before she spoke. "It's just that I...well, I don't want to see you back in prison again."

Scabior raised an eyebrow, his expression brightening. "Is tha so?" He sounded pleasantly surprised by her words. "I thought you didn't like me an wanted nothing to do with me."

The smallest hint of a smile creased the corners of Violet's mouth as she looked at him. Her voice suddenly abandoned her, her heart racing in her chest. Could it be that she was falling in love with this wild and arrogant wizard?

"Be 'onest with me, pet," Scabior said. "Do you per'aps fancy me? Just a little?"

Again she found herself momentarily unable to speak. It felt like her heart was in her throat.

"Yes, I do," she finally managed to say.

"An do you per'aps feel attracted to me?"

Violet's smile widened. Her heart was racing even faster now. She couldn't help but feel drawn to him. His pale blue eyes were so alluring, holding her gaze with a look that both captured and melted her heart.

"Pet?" Scabior said when Violet didn't answer. "Come on now. You must find me attractive with the way you're looking at me like tha."

Violet exhaled slowly, her breath coming out as a faint sigh of longing. She wasn't even aware of the fact that she had been holding her breath until that very moment.

"You are very sexy," she said.

"Indeed I am. But you 'aven't answered my question."

"Yes. I suppose I am attracted to you," said Violet, finally telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. "I can't help it. You're beautiful, Scabior. And you're a lot sweeter than I imagined you would be."

"Sweeter?" Scabior grinned. "Well I'm not the bastard tha everyone thinks I am. I do 'ave a 'eart despite wha others think of me."

Violet sighed contentedly, closing her eyes and snuggling up close to him. "You're a sweetheart," she softly murmured.

"An so are you, pet," said Scabior, extinguishing the candles on his desk with a brief wave of his wand.

It was late. Almost one in the morning. And seeing that Violet was now relaxed and comfortable beside him made Scabior decide that it was time to get some sleep.

"I like being here with you, Scabior," Violet said sleepily, already beginning to doze off. "I don't want you to end up in prison again. I want us to stay together."

"Don't worry about it, pet," Scabior said, wrapping his arm around her. "They won't catch me tha easily. An the only reason they did catch me tha one time is because I was - " Scabior's voice trailed off as he suddenly became quiet.

"You were what?" Violet asked.

"It's nothing, pet. Go to sleep."

"Alright," Violet yawned. "Goodnight, Scabior."

"Goodnight, pet. Sweet dreams."


	7. Snowflakes & Gashes

Snow was falling in large white flakes as the bruised and blackened clouds descended from above. The tops of the mountains and surrounding trees were lost amid the heavy clouds, and Violet's breath was steaming in the frigid air as she walked along an empty dirt road through the hills.

The snow was so deep that Violet couldn't see the ground beneath her feet. Nearly all the nearby bushes and plant life had been swallowed up by thick heavy mounds of white. There were, however, fresh tracks in the snow, stretching out before her and leading up a long and winding slope.

Violet stopped and knelt down, taking a moment to examine the tracks. She wasn't sure who or what had made them. But judging by the size and shape of the prints it looked as though a fairly large animal had made them.

"Scabior," Violet called out, motioning for the head Snatcher to come join her with a wave of her hand. "Come over here for a moment and look at this."

"Wha is it, pet?" the dark haired Snatcher queried as he walked towards her.

Violet pointed to the prints in the snow. "What do you suppose made these, Scabior?"

Scabior carefully studied the prints in the snow. It didn't take him long to realize that the prints were made by a large cat about four or five feet in length.

"What kind of big cat would be lurking around out here?" Violet asked.

"I don't know," said Scabior, gazing out across the snow covered ground at the trail of pawprints. "But wha'ever it is it isn't fully an animal. It's an animagus."

"What?" Violet spun around, turning to face Scabior who was still squatting in the snow beside the pawprints. "How do you know that?"

"Look closely at the prints, love. See 'ow they morph into 'uman footprints a couple yards away?

Sure enough Scabior was right. As she followed the tracks Violet saw that the animal tracks gradually changed into those of a human being.

Violet looked worried. "What does this mean, Scabior?"

"It means tha there is a witch or wizard out 'ere who shouldn't be," said Scabior, standing up and walking towards her. He withdrew his wand from a pocket in his jacket. "Be careful, pet. I 'ave a feeling that we're not alone."

Violet took a step towards Scabior, her eyes nervously scanning the surrounding woodlands for any sign of movement. She felt frightened and stood close to Scabior for protection from whatever unknown entity was lurking in the forest.

The snow was falling heavier now. Already it was beginning to fill in the deep tracks with a fresh layer of powdery snow that covered the frozen earth, blanketing everything for miles around in solid white.

A severe snow storm was brewing on the horizon. If Violet and Scabior didn't return to camp soon they were liable to end up getting caught in the first major storm of the season.

"Let's go home, Scabior," said Violet, clinging to the Snatcher's arm as she began to shiver. "It's really cold and I don't feel safe out here."

Scabior wanted to stay and further investigate the tracks in order to uncover who the mysterious intruder was and where they went. But seeing that Violet was frightened and uncomfortable out in the cold he decided to take her back to camp then return on his own later.

Just as Scabior was preparing to apparate with Violet back to camp he spied a large animal perched upon the snow covered hillside between a growth of tall trees. The creature, whose fur was pale white with patches of black rings, was crouched low to the ground, ready to pounce. Scabior had only a split second to register the creature's appearance before it lunged at them.

Thinking fast Scabior shoved Violet to the side, shielding her with his body as the massive wildcat attacked. Violet stumbled and fell to the ground. She looked up as she heard Scabior scream and saw fresh blood staining the pure white snow. There was a blinding flash of deep purple light and the wildcat was sent sprawling on its back in the snow. The wildcat then got back up and vanished in the blink of an eye.

The moment the wildcat disappeared Violet hurried to Scabior's side to see if he was alright.

Scabior had collapsed and was lying on his side in the snow. A large crimson stain was seeping into the cold ground beneath him, spreading slowly to form a warm pool around the fallen Snatcher's legs. His left leg had been torn open and he was bleeding from a deep gash in his upper thigh.

Violet couldn't believe her eyes. Scabior was hurt, and he had gotten hurt protecting her from harm.

"Get out of 'ere," he gasped, looking up at her as he painfully struggled to force himself into a sitting position. "Now."

"Scabior, no! I can't leave you like this!" Violet cried.

Gritting his teeth against the pain Scabior doubled over, clutching his wounded leg that was pouring blood onto the snow.

"I said go!" he shouted. "Leave me! I'll stay be'ind an finish tha bastard myself."

Falling to her knees beside him in the snow, Violet flung her arms around Scabior.

"No!" she wailed. "I'm not leaving you! I won't!"

"Dammit, Violet!" Scabior tried to push her away from him but it was no use. The stubborn witch wouldn't budge an inch.

"Scabior, no, please..." Violet sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she clung to him. "Scabior, I can't leave you... I can't."

"Violet, you 'ave to go. It isn't safe 'ere. Violet! Violet!"

The young witch's eyes shot open as she heard someone calling her name. She found herself in bed, her arms tightly wrapped around Scabior's body as the Snatcher fought to free himself from her grasp. It had all been just a dream. A very vivid, very horrible dream.

"Wha's wrong?" Scabior asked the moment Violet released him. "Violet, tell me wha 'appened."

Violet couldn't speak. Her eyes wide with terror and her skin pale and covered in cold sweat, she was breathing rapidly, her pulse racing a mile a minute.

Scabior placed one hand behind her back, holding her as his other hand lightly stroked her hair. Already he could feel heat radiating from her body. She was going to have another accident with her magic is she didn't calm down.

"Breathe, pet," Scabior told her. "Remember wha I told you before. You need to breathe deeply an relax."

Violet's body tensed as the heat within her grew more intense. It felt like her entire body was about to burst into flames.

"Come on, love," Scabior said, both hands now firmly holding her by the shoulders. "Close your eyes. Listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on it. You follow me, pet?"

Her body trembling as she struggled to maintain control of her magic, Violet did as he said, closing her eyes as she concentrated on Scabior's voice while trying to block out the horrific images of her dream that still lingered on the edges of her mind.

"Tha's it," Scabior continued. "Breathe in an count to three."

Again Violet followed his command.

"Now ex'ale an slowly count to three again. Draw the magical energy back into your body. You can do it, pet."

Violet's heart rate gradually returned to normal, the heat simmering beneath the surface of her skin slowly dissipating.

When she had calmed down, Scabior asked her to tell him what was wrong. But Violet didn't want to tell him what she had seen in her dream. It had been bad enough experiencing it once. She didn't want to relive it all over again by telling him the details of her nightmare.

"You need to learn to let me 'elp you, sweet'eart," said Scabior. He grasped her hands, looking deep into her eyes in the early morning twilight that filled the tent as he spoke to her. "Tell me wha 'appened."

Why did Scabior have to be so charming? His voice soothing and his tone so strong and comforting. He could protect her from herself and the pain within her heart. Violet knew this. And so she began to speak, telling him what had happened in her dream.

Scabior listened intently as she spoke, paying close attention to the details of her dream. It was indeed an unpleasant nightmare she had experienced, but Scabior assured her that everything was going to be alright, that it was only a dream.

"I don't know, Scabior," said Violet. "Something doesn't feel right. I think something is wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, sweet'eart," Scabior said softly. "Though I'm beginning to think it might be a good idea to pick up a bottle of dreamless sleep potion the next time I'm out in Diagon Alley."

No, something was definitely wrong. Violet knew in her heart that something wasn't right. She just didn't know how to explain what she was feeling. She didn't understand why she felt like this, why her chest was tight and her body burning with suppressed magical energy. Her face felt hot and it was difficult to breathe. She sensed something was wrong, but what? What exactly was wrong?

Scabior placed the back of his hand against her cheek. "You're burning up. You need to relax, pet. You feel like you 'ave a fever."

"Maybe I just need some air," Violet mumbled, not fully aware of the fact that she was speaking or what she was saying. Her thoughts were muddled and her body hot and tired. "Go outside..." she continued, now sounding like she was talking in her sleep. "Cool off... Outside..."

Taking hold of her gently Scabior eased Violet onto her back in bed.

"You need to rest," he told her. "Just lie back down an rest. You'll be alright in a bit."

Scabior sighed, watching as her eyes closed and she drifted back to sleep. It was a worrisome situation, watching as she slowly recovered only to fall back into nightmares and torment once again. He decided he would make a trip to Diagon Alley after breakfast that morning to purchase some dreamless sleep potion for her. He wasn't going to sit back and watch her go through this all over again.

By now the sun was beginning to rise above the horizon, its warm glow painting the pale November skies with faded golden yellow and azure hues streaked with torn and drifting white clouds.

It was still early, even the birds had not yet begun to chirp and sing their morning songs in the cold autumn forest. Scabior didnt usually get up this early in the morning. But since he was already awake he figured he might as well get out of bed and start the day.

After getting dressed and tying his messy hair back in a loose ponytail, Scabior made his way to the entrance of the tent. Taking a moment to glance back over his shoulder at Violet's sleeping form in his bed, Scabior pushed aside the tent flap and froze. The ground before him was covered in pure white snow. And stretching out before him in the snow was a trail of large pawprints.

Scabior stood and stared out at the scene before him. All around him everything was covered in several inches of fresh snow. But it shouldn't have been snowing now. The first snows didn't normally begin until December. And the mysterious pawprints that crept their way through the campsite and off into the forest left Scabior utterly baffled, for it was as though a scene from one of Violet's nightmares was playing out right before his very eyes.

Bending down to examine the prints in the snow, Scabior soon realized that the tracks were those of a large wildcat. He placed his hand beside one of the prints, noticing that the animal's paw was nearly the size of his own hand.

Suddenly there came the sound of a branch being snapped not far away in the surrounding woods. Scabior's head shot up, and he caught a glimpse of a large muscular snow leopard bounding off through the trees. He quickly drew his wand and gave chase after the powerful beast.

Racing through the snow covered bracken and weaving between the overgrown redwood trees, Scabior ran at top speed as he attempted to catch the fleeing animal. He hadn't stopped to consider the possibility that Violet's dream might have been a warning and that perhaps he shouldn't be so quick to give chase after this animal. The only thought that entered his mind was that if Violet's dream came to pass, her safety would be threatened by the witch or wizard that hid behind the guise of a snow leopard. He had to protect her no matter what the cost or what happened to him in the progress. He wouldn't let anything take her from him.

Still running after the fleeing snow leopard Scabior fired a hex at the creature. His spell missed, shattering the bark of a tree some three feet away to the left of the snow leopard.

The snow leopard was too fast, its long legs carrying it four steps for every two Scabior took. Skilled as he was at snatching people Scabior couldn't catch up to the large wildcat. And in a final burst of speed the snow leopard quickened its pace, leaving Scabior alone in the snow covered shadowy forest.

Scabior skidded to a stop, snow spraying out beneath his boots as he came to an abrupt halt. He was furious that his target had once again eluded him, but there was no time to think about the creature's escape, for as soon as the snow leopard vanished into the trees a dense fog began to fill the surrounding forest. Within seconds Scabior could barely see five feet infront of him, the chilling fog reducing the woods to a murky white haze with looming silhouettes of tall dark trees.

Then it happened. A blazing jet of pale blue light pierced the fog and struck Scabior in the arm, tearing open the sleeve of his jacket and ripping though his flesh.

Scabior screamed in pain, his kneens buckling in agony as he doubled over clutching his bleeding arm.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Scabior's eyes darted left and right, desperately searching for any sign of the person who attacked him. But the white shroud that veiled the forest was too thick to see through.

"Come out 'ere!" Scabior shouted angrily. "Stop 'iding an come out an fight me like a man!"

"As you wish," came a voice from within the fog. And with that the fog lifted, revealing the figure of a tall wizard with deep brown eyes and shoulder length greyish-black hair, wearing slate grey clothing and a forest green cloak.

"Who the bloody 'ell are you?" Scabior snarled. "An wha are you doing 'ere?"

"Jacob O' Riley," the brown eyed wizard replied. "And what I'm doing is of no concern to you. I do what my master tells me to do, and that is all you need to know."

"Really?" Scabior took a step forward. He glanced at his wounded arm and saw blood streaming out from between his fingers, dripping down his elbow. It was clear that he had been badly injured, but he wasn't about to let that slow him down. "Well around 'ere I'm in charge, an as far as I'm concerned you 'ave no business being 'ere!"

Jacob was forced to duck and run as a curse hit the ground and exploded barely a foot from where he had been standing. He continued to run, the ground erupting on either side of him as he zigzagged through the trees. It was then that he realized that the snow was hindering his progress. It was so thick that it was difficult for him to run - or even walk - in. Scabior on the other hand was able to run through the snow with ease. He'd spent so long running, chasing and snatching people in various weather conditions that he was used to whatever Mother Nature could throw at him. If Jacob wanted to have any chance against him at all, he would have to cause further injury to the persistant Snatcher in order to slow him down.

Jacob dove for cover behind a tree just as one of Scabior's hexes caught him in the side, burning through his clothing and setting his cloak on fire.

"Wha's wrong? Can't 'andle a proper duel with someone when you arent 'iding from them?" Scabior jeered, wanting to laugh at the sight of Jacob with his cloak ablaze, burning brightly in the dim twilight of the forest.

Jacob put out the fire with a jet of water from his wand before leaning around the tree and hurling a hex at Scabior.

The hex barely grazed the side of Scabior's cheek as he sidestepped the attack, leaving a thin cut across the Snatcher's face. Scabior then retaliated with a bright spiral of white light that struck Jacob full on in the chest, lifting the wizard off his feet and sending him spinning through the air some twenty feet before slamming him into a tall redwood tree.

Collapsing in a heap on the frozen earth, Jacob gasped sharply as the wind was knocked out of him from the blow against the tree. His ribs were shattered and every breath he took lanced his insides with tremendous pain. He knew that he was finished if he didn't do something to stop Scabior at once.

His eyes shut tight against the pain in his chest, Jacob heard Scabior's footsteps crunching in the snow as he ran towards him. He opened one of his deep brown eyes, seeing the image of his foe as a blurred haze as his sight swam before him. He then made a slashing motion with his wand, sending a brilliant flare of bight light at the incoming Snatcher.

Scabior had not expected Jacob to have recovered so quickly from such a devastating blow. He was only barely able to cast a protective shield charm in time, causing Jacob's curse to strike the shield and rebound off into the woods, exploding like dazzling fireworks as it took out several trees about thirty yards away.

"Well, it appears as though you still 'ave some fight left in you," said Scabior, slowing his pace as he walked up to where Jacob lay on his side in the snow. "Imagine if tha 'ad actually 'it me. But I'd say tha you're pretty much spent after tha."

Jacob coughed and retched, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth, staining the snow with drops of deep crimson. Scabior was only fifteen feet away from him. If he didn't escape now he would surely die.

"No..." he gasped. "Not yet... Not this time." His deep brown eyes were blazing with furious anger and determination as he looked up at Scabior. He refused to be defeated this way. There was still light within his eyes. Jacob O' Riley wasn't done yet.

With his last ounce of strength Jacob forcefully drove the tip of his wand into the snow covered earth. The ground began to tremble and violently shake, causing the snow to fall from the limbs of the surrounding trees, and a raised patch of earth appeared where Jacob had stabbed the ground with his wand.

The patch of earth was like that of an animal tunneling beneath the soil, leaving behind a trail of loose raised earth in its wake as it made its way underground. But this entity was not an animal. It was a powerful sphere of magical energy racing towards Scabior from a depth of three feet underground.

There was no way for Scabior to stop an attack like that. Within seconds the underground sphere reached its target and exploded beneath Scabior's feet, ripping apart the earth as a massive cloud of snow and dirt was sent soaring a mile into the air.

When the tremors settled and the dust had cleared, Scabior was no where in sight. Whether or not he survived the curse was unknown to Jacob who's only desire now was to escape alive, and he had used the explosion as cover to disapparate.

There was now nothing left of the two wizards. Only bloodstains upon the snow and shattered earth remained as a sign of where they had once been.

\-----------------------

The sun had risen well above the horizon and was lazily making its way across the early morning sky. Its light shown through the branches of the forest canopy, casting dappled shadows over the cluster of tents in the woods. One by one the Snatchers were gradually beginning to wake up and start their day.

Ranca was one of the first to wake up, a bright blue sky covered in a patchy layer of high clouds greeting him as he walked out of his tent into the warm sunshine. The ground was no longer covered in snow, though drops of early morning dew and bits of frost still clung to the grass and bushes.

"Where is Scabior?" Ranca asked with a yawn, taking a seat on a fallen log opposite Silis who was adding more wood to the campfire.

Silis shrugged. "Don't know. He's usually awake by now and telling me what he wants for breakfast."

Ranca glanced over at Scabior's tent. "You don't suppose he and Violet are having a bit of a lie in do you?"

"Not sure," Silis replied. "It wouldn't surprise me, though. Scabior seems to have become awfully fond of her."

Ranca shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. "You know I didn't think it was possible that, after all these years, Scabior has finally found someone he truly likes."

"I wouldn't go jumping to conclusions if I were you, mate," said Silis. "You of all people should know better than that. Perhaps she's just a nice piece of arse that Scabior isn't ready to turn in yet."

"But it's because I know better that I can tell things are different this time. I know Scabior better than anyone else here. I went to school with him and I've known him since he was a boy. We grew up together, always running, chasing each other, playing games out in the woods. So trust me on this one, mate. The boss is in love. I'm sure of it."

"Pfft." Silis shrugged off Ranca's comment with a wave of his hand. He didn't believe that Scabior could fall in love with anyone. That just wasn't possible in his mind.

The sun continued to rise higher into the sky and still there was no sign of Scabior. The Snatchers were beginning to get worried. They didn't know why their leader had yet to make his presence known in camp that morning. It wasn't until an hour after sunrise that Scabior finally returned to camp, limping and bleeding.

Within seconds nearly all of the Snatchers converged upon Scabior, offering him help and asking him what had happened. Only Morvin stayed behind, watching the others with mild curiosity. He didn't really care enough to come forward and offer Scabior any help. And from the looks of things Scabior wouldn't have accepted it anyway.

"Get away from me!" snapped Scabior when Ranca suggested that he sit down and let him tend to his wounds.

Scabior was limping badly on his right foot, the left sleeve of his jacket torn to shreds and soaked in blood. But still he refused help from any of his men, stating that he was quite capable of taking care of himself.

"I need to talk to Violet," he said. "Now."

"But sir," Ranca persisted. "You're injured. At least let me clean and bandage your arm."

"I said I don't need your 'elp!" Scabior said, shoving Ranca to the side and limping towards his tent. "I'll patch myself up in a minute. Right now I 'ave more important matters to address first." And with that he disappeared into his tent.

As soon as he entered his tent Scabior began to gingerly remove his torn jacket. There was dried blood caked on the smooth leather material as well as soaked into the soft interior lining. He could easily clean and repair his jacket with a few simple charms, but right now his focus was on the witch who was still sleeping in his bed.

Scabior removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair that was pushed up under his desk. He briefly examined the large gash in his upper left arm, noticing that it was rather deep and extremely painful. He then conjured a roll of bandages, wincing as they magically wrapped themselves around his wounded arm.

"Violet," said Scabior, walking over to the bed and nudging her in the side with the tip of his wand. "Violet, you need to wake up, pet."

Violet stirred slightly and mumbled something in her sleep.

"Violet." Scabior gave her another poke with his wand. "Come on, love. We need to talk."

"What did you call me?" Violet queried sleepily, rolling over in bed to get a better look at him. She'd never heard him call her 'love' before, and for a moment she was quite sure she must be hearing things.

The moment she saw Scabior standing there before her with dried blood down his face and arm she gasped, one hand clutching her chest as she sat bolt upright in bed.

"Scabior! What happened to you?"

"I just about 'ad my fucking arm torn off is what 'appened," said Scabior. "Tell me something. Do you 'ave any seers in your family?"

Violet stared at him, her mouth opening slightly in astonishment. Even if she had been awake enough to comprehend what he was asking her it was still too much to take in all at once.

"Seer?" Violet said slowly. She looked from his bandaged arm to the cut on his cheek, his words gradually beginning to sink in. "But in my dream you were injured and couldn't walk."

"I can walk, but it's a right pain in the arse to get around," said Scabior.

He limped over to the bed and all but collapsed onto it as he sat down beside her.

"I think I may 'ave sprained my ankle," he said, rolling up his right pants leg and carefully removing his boot. "Or at least tha's wha it feels like. I was 'it with an unknown 'ex an got caught in the resulting explosion when the ground erupted right under my feet."

Violet's eyes widened as she looked down at his right foot and saw that a large bruise was darkening the skin above his ankle. She also noticed the rips in his plaid pants along with several cuts and abrasions to his legs.

"I don't think anything is broken, but I'll not be snatching anyone until this 'eals, pet," said Scabior. He then turned his attention back to her and said, "You still 'aven't answered my question, princess."

"You haven't told me how this happened to you," said Violet.

"Answer my question first," Scabior said, a strong note of irritation present in his tone when he spoke. The amount of pain he was in coupled with the rotten morning he'd experienced was having a negative effect on his mood, causing him to loose his temper with her and become unnecessarily harsh and impatient.

"No, I don't think there have ever been any seers in my family," she said, sounding rather nervous after he'd snapped at her. His tone was making her a bit uneasy.

"An you're sure about tha?"

Violet hesitated before speaking. "I think so. I know my parents don't have abilities like that and nither do my grandparents."

"Wha about your sister?"

"No, Heather's good at herbology but she can't predict the future. To be honest I don't know anyone who can."

Scabior thought about what she said. Then he asked her if anything like this had ever happened to her before.

Violet shook her head. "No, never. My mother always told me I am nothing but a useless failure, that I am stupid and can't do anything right."

"Wha about when you were in school?" Scabior asked. "You 'ad to be good at something."

"Herbology and astronomy were the only subjects I was ever good at. But I'm not the perfect pureblood everyone expects me to be." Violet paused, biting her bottom lip as she gazed down at the blankets on the bed. "I never graduated. I completed all six years of my education, I just couldn't pass the final exam in order to graduate."

"Wait a minute," said Scabior, looking slightly perplexed. "Six years? Don't you mean seven?"

"I'm from Italy. The wizarding school I attended with my sister starts at age thirteen and lasts for six years," Violet explained.

"Do you know wha I think your problem is?" said Scabior thoughtfully. "I think you've unconsciously been suppressing your magical abilities the entire time you were living with your mum. She convinced you tha you are worthless. But now tha you're away from all tha an living with me, some of your true powers are starting to come to the surface."

Violet actually laughed at this. "You're joking," she chuckled, unwilling to believe what he said.

"No, I'm not, pet," he said, his tone serious this time. "Ask yourself this - 'ave you ever been able to use wandless magic before you met me? Or dream of events in the future?"

For several long seconds Violet was silent, realization slowly dawning on her that he was right. She'd never been able to preform magic like this before.

Scabior smiled as he watched her expression brighten with dawning comprehension. But his joy at seeing her pleasure was short lived as he felt a sudden sharp stab of pain in his right ankle.

The pain he felt brought his thoughts back to the injuries he'd sustained. He needed to clean himself up and mend his torn clothing. He also needed to wrap his ankle to make it easier for him to walk.

"I 'ave to go, pet," he said, grimacing in pain as he rose up off the bed. "I need to get washed up an tend to my injuries. But before I do I want you to promise me tha you will not speak of this to the others. I don't want them to know tha you are possibly a seer."

Violet looked confused. "Why don't you want them to know?"

"There are various reasons," he replied. "I can't always trust some of the people who work for me. If information regarding your abilities passed to the wrong person, it could be potentionally dangerous for you."

Momentarily ignoring the pain in his ankle, Scabior shifted his weight onto his left foot as he reached out and ran his fingers back through Violet's hair.

"I need to be able to protect you...to keep you safe," he said, speaking softly as he gazed deep into her eyes. He could feel himself sinking deeper into those olive green eyes of hers, into the depths of her beating heart, her very soul, connecting with her as if their hearts were one.

Why did she have such a hold on him? Her very spirit reaching out to him, meeting in a fragment of space and time set aside for them, reserved only for them to come together in body and soul, two hearts meeting in the silence of space, holding tight to each other.

He gently whispered, "You are mine. You will be my little secret. All of this will be. And I promise I will keep you safe, Violet." He then leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, unable to hold back his feelings for her any longer.

Violet did not fight him, nor did she attempt to pull away when she felt his lips make contact with hers. Instead she leaned into him, kissing him back as she wrapped her arms around him.

The moment would have been perfect, but as her arms closed around him Scabior's body tensed as he felt her brush against his wounded arm.

"Stop, pet," he gasped, breaking contact with her and backing away slightly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, loosening her grip on him somewhat.

He slipped out of her grasp, his fingers finding the bandages around his arm as he held his injured limb.

"Dammit!" he hissed through his clenched teeth. "I'm sorry, love. It's this blasted arm."

There it was again. The word 'love'. Violet wasn't hearing things after all.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Violet asked, looking at him with concern.

"It's fine, sweet'eart," said Scabior. "I've been through much worse than this."

"But are you sure you'll be alright? You're positively covered in blood."

"I'm sure," he reassured her. "Now you will promise not to tell any of the others about your abilities. Understand?"

"Yes Scabior. I understand. I promise not to tell them."

"Thank you, love."


	8. Collapse From Within

In the days following Scabior and Jacob's duel, Scabior increased security around the campsite, strengthening the wards he'd placed around their living quarters and ordering Greyback and Ranca to take turns keeping watch at night.

Under normal circumstances Scabior's wards were enough to keep any unwanted guests out of camp. The only problem was that his spells were designed to deter human intruders. A wizard wearing the guise of an animal could easily slip into camp because animals were unaffected by Scabior's wards.

But Scabior wasn't about to let this one flaw keep him from protectioning Violet. He added a few additional enchantments to his tent to keep her safe. And shortly after lunch on the morning he was attacked by Jacob, Scabior headed out to Diagon Alley to purchase a bottle of dreamless sleep potion for her.

Scabior knew that Violet's abilities could be of use to him. He could use them to his advantage as though she were his own secret weapon. She could give him advanced warning of dangerous events in the future, making it easier for him to stay one step ahead of his foes. This would be especially useful should Lord Voldemort fall in defeat.

'But at wha cost?' Scabior thought, gazing down at the bottle of midnight blue dreamless sleep potion in his hand. 'It's not worth it if it means she 'as to suffer for 'er gift.'

He walked over to the witch behind the counter, his sore ankle paining him with every step he took, and paid for the dreamless sleep potion.

When he presented her with the dreamless sleep potion Violet was hesitant to start taking it. She told him that she needed to keep having her dreams in case anything bad was lurking on the horizon. But Scabior insisted that she take it for a couple nights so she could rest and catch up on her sleep.

"Some day tha ability of yours will be useful," he told her. "But not right now. Not while it's causing you to 'ave nightmares and lose sleep. You 'ave to learn 'ow to properly control it first. Until then I want you to take this when you start 'aving nightmares again."

"Alright," said Violet, agreeing rather reluctantly to start taking the potion.

"I also want you to take the potion whenever you get upset by something," Scabior added. "I don't want you to go back to 'urting yourself. Tell me if you feel sad or upset. I can 'elp. Then take tha potion to calm yourself an rest. Understand, pet?"

"Yes, Scabior. I'll do as you say."

Thank you, sweet'eart," he said, smiling as he put an arm around her. "I told you I could repair the damage tha's been done if you trusted me an gave me a chance. An I meant it, love. I'll take good care of you. I promise."

Time passed. It had now been five days since the morning of Jacob and Scabior's duel. And while Violet seemed to be in relatively good spirits for the time being, she couldn't help but notice that Scabior didn't quite seem like himself lately.

Scabior had become run down and listless, his usually high energy levels lagging for some reason. He'd also become more withdrawn and defensive, snapping at his men over the slightest thing whenever they spoke to him.

At first Violet attributed his behavior to the fact that he'd been staying awake later than usual, checking on Greyback and Ranca to make sure they weren't asleep at their post. Once he'd caught Greyback dozing off around two thirty in the morning. And after sending the werewolf running back to his tent with a few lashes to the arse, Scabior spent the remainder of the night awake on watch.

Violet hoped that Scabior's odd behavior was due to nothing more than lack of sleep. He hadn't been drinking more than usual so she knew that wasn't the problem. But as time wore on she could see that Scabior's condition was rapidly deteriorating to the point where he appeared as though he were becoming ill.

Violet couldn't understand what was wrong. When she tried asking him what was wrong Scabior ignored her until she changed the subject. He absolutely refused to discuss matters concerning his health.

One evening while everyone was sitting down to dinner around the campfire, Violet glanced over at Scabior and saw that he had barely touched any of the food on his plate. Normally Scabior had a ravenous appetite and ate more than anyone else in the group except Greyback. But tonight it seemed as though he had little interest in food.

"Hey boss, you ought to try one of these," said Jeremy, holding out a long stick that had several plump sausages impaled upon the end that he'd been roasting over the fire. "They're rather tasty if I do say so myself."

Scabior pushed the stick away. "I'm not 'ungry," he said simply.

When the sun rose the next morning Scabior was still in bed sleeping. Normally he was one of the first people to wake up in the morning. But today he overslept and missed breakfast.

Silis offered to make Scabior breakfast when the head Snatcher woke up at half past ten in the morning. Scabior still had no interest in food and turned down the offer. He then decided to leave camp for a while to patrol the surrounding area and make sure that everything was safe and secure in the forest around their campsite.

By now no one could ignore Scabior's unusual behavior. Even Morvin noticed that something wasn't right, and the Snatchers became concerned, wondering what was wrong with their leader.

Violet didn't like the looks of this. Scabior was possibly ill, and now he had gone off by himself on patrol through the forest. None of the other Snatchers were doing anything about it. Perhaps they were afraid of the repercussions that may arise if Scabior disapproved of their actions. Greyback still had difficulty sitting down after Scabior punished him for falling asleep at his post. No one wanted to risk incurring their leader's wrath.

Violet put down the book she was reading. She was sitting at Scabior's desk trying to take her mind off him by reading one of the books he'd given her. It was an interesting book on advanced conjuration spells, but it couldn't hold her attention for very long. Her mind was too focused on Scabior that morning as she wondered where he was and if he was alright.

She knew she could leave the tent if she wanted to. Scabior had recently altered the enchantments on his tent, allowing Violet to come and go from there as she pleased, as long as she didn't stray outside of the protective spells surroundings the campsite or try to run away. She could try sneaking off and following Scabior to make sure he was alright, but would she really be able to get past a camp full of Snatchers?

Violet crept over to the entrance of the tent. She opened the tent flap just enough to peek outside. The only Snatchers she saw were Morvin and Ranca halfway across the camp. They were yelling at each other and appeared to be engaged in a heated argument.

Violet didn't know what they were arguing about. All she knew was that this was the perfect opportunity for her to leave camp unnoticed while Morvin and Ranca were having a row. So she quietly slipped out of the tent before the others had time to realize she was gone and made her way out into the woods.

Once she was in the forest Violet began searching for signs that Scabior had passed through the area, such as broken twigs or footprints. It didn't take her long to realize that tracking someone through the dense undergrowth of an old forest wasn't all that easy. In fact it was rather difficult, given her inexperience tracking and the fact that she had no idea where she was.

'How does Scabior do it?' she thought, stumbling through a tangled growth of blackberry vines that had snaked their way along the ground and up the trunks of the surrounding oak trees.

Her pants leg caught on the blackberry bush thorns, snagging and ripping the material as she continued on her way. But she didn't care, nor did she give any thought to the scratches she obtained on her legs from the thorny vines. Her only thought was moving forward and locating Scabior.

After several minutes of wandering through the forest, Violet came across a narrow trail between the trees. The path before her was bare dirt with layers of fallen leaves strewn across the sides of the dirt trail. Oak trees and bilberry lined the sides of the path with clumps of tall grass growing between the trees, most of which had been obscured by fallen leaves.

Violet decided to follow the path, hoping it would lead to Scabior. Eventually she came to a small sturdy wooden bridge that crossed over a stream running south into the forest.

As she paused on the bridge to look around, Violet could see tall cattails growing out of the stream to her right, their brown tips gently waving in the crisp November air. Some of them had split open with their downy white fluff spilling out onto the surface of the water below. To her left the stream was partially choked off by more rambling blackberry vines.

It was a beautiful scene, one Violet wished she could stop and enjoy for a while. But she had to continue on. Scabior was still out there somewhere and she had to find him.

The trail stretched on before her for what seemed like miles. She had no idea how long or far she walked, going deeper and deeper into the woods. The sun climbed higher into the sky and still there was no sign of Scabior.

The trail gradually became wider, the trees on either side of the trail thinning as the path opened out into a large clearing. And standing in the middle of the path was Scabior.

At first Violet was cautious, approaching him slowly as he stood with his back to her. He was a fair distance ahead of her, his body a darkened silhouette between the trees that loomed overhead. She wanted to make sure that this was in fact Scabior and not Jacob before she got any closer.

"Scabior?" Violet called out to him, but the Snatcher did not respond.

She took several steps forward and tried calling to him again.

Still no response.

Scabior then took a few unsteady steps forward. He held his head in his right hand, doubling over as though he were in pain. The next thing Violet knew Scabior staggered sideways and collapsed to the ground.

Violet immediately ran to the place where Scabior had collapsed, kneeling beside him and carefully rolling him over onto his back.

"Scabior!" she called out, trying to get him to respond. "Scabior, can you hear me? Come on, Scabior, say something, please."

Panic surged through Violet's chest, causing her heart to race as she gazed down at Scabior's unconscious form beside her. It was then that she noticed the deep flush about his face and the thin coat of perspiration that had formed on his brow. She placed the palm of her hand across his forehead, only to discover that he was running a fever.

Now Violet was really worried. She was lost in the woods, alone with an ill wizard who was feverish and unconscious, and she didn't know what was wrong or how to help him. She wondered how he'd become ill so suddenly. No one else at camp had been sick recently. She also wondered how she would be able to get help when they were so far away from camp.

She couldn't just leave him while she went to search for the other Snatchers. She doubted that she'd be able to find her way back to camp, and chances were she'd get lost long before she made it anywhere near the Snatcher's campsite. Though she didn't have long to ponder these thoughts, for only a minute or two later she heard footsteps coming down the path and looked up to see Ranca heading her way.

"Ranca!" Violet called out, waving to him as his head came into view above the thick ferns and bushes that crowed the edges of the path several yards away. "Ranca, come quick! It's Scabior. He needs help!"

In an instant Ranca dashed off at top speed down the path, rounding the corner as the ground beneath his feet dipped down and opened out into a wider path with sparse vegetation on either side of the trail.

"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" Ranca asked as soon as he arrived on scene.

"No, but I think he may be sick," Violet replied, her eyes dark with worry as she glanced up at Ranca.

"Sick?" Ranca seemed taken aback by her words. He wasn't expecting his leader to have suddenly fallen ill.

"He's burning up with a fever, Ranca," said Violet, anxiously wringing her hands. "I don't know what happened. He just fainted right in front of me."

Ranca felt Scabior's forehead then checked his pulse. "His heart rate has gone up quite a bit," he said, removing his wand from the pocket of his charcoal gray pants. "We need to get him back to camp. I can assess his condition better once we return." He then waved his wand and conjured a stretcher. He flicked his wand again and levitated Scabior's unconscious form onto the stretcher.

"Scabior's going to kill me for this," muttered Ranca as he made the stretcher rise a few feet into the air in front of him. He looked back at Violet. "Whatever happens do not tell Scabior how I brought him back to camp. The boss has...well, he has an excessive amount of pride, and he would not be pleased if he knew I levitated him back to camp on a stretcher."

Ranca had no trouble finding his way back to camp. And needless to say the sight of him and Violet returning with Scabior on a stretcher drew a great deal of attention from the rest of the Snatchers.

Greyback with the first to come forward, questioning Ranca on what had happened.

"We don't know yet, but we think he may be ill," Ranca told him, his tone gravely sober as he spoke to the werewolf. "You keep everything calm out here. I'm going to see what can be done about Scabior."

Because Scabior had lost consciousness, the enchantments he'd placed on his tent that prevented anyone but him and Violet from entering his private living quarters had fallen, giving Ranca access to his master's tent. The spells that Scabior cast would have to be recast at a later time when he recovered, but right now Ranca had more important matters to tend to.

After levitating Scabior onto his bed and vanishing the stretcher, Ranca immediately set about checking Scabior's vital signs with a basic charm he cast on the head Snatcher. Violet meanwhile went to the bathroom to fill a bowl with cool water which she brought along with a washcloth to Scabior's bedroom.

Violet soaked the cloth in the water, wringing out the excess fluid before neatly folding the washcloth and laying it across Scabior's fevered brow.

The ailing Snatcher moaned faintly as the damp cloth made contact with his forehead. He did not open his eyes, but he stirred slightly, the first sign that he was beginning to regain consciousness.

"Isn't there a spell you can use to revive him?" Violet asked.

"Yes, there is," Ranca replied at length, casting a wary glance at Scabior. "But you don't know what he's like when he's sick. He becomes even more stubborn and difficult to deal with than usual. It's practically impossible to get anywhere near him when he's not feeling well. So trust me when I say that it's easier this way."

Violet frowned, sighing in frustration. From the sounds of it Scabior wasn't going to be an easy patient to care for.

"Another thing to keep in mind is that fainting spells always exhaust him," Ranca continued. "So even after he regains consciousness he's still going to be somewhat groggy and sluggish for a while."

Violet watched in silence as Ranca carefully removed Scabior's jacket and set it aside at the foot of the bed, the subtle movement causing a low moan to escape from Scabior's lips.

"According to the results of the charm I cast his temperature is 102," said Ranca, his hands now moving towards the soiled bandages wrapped around the upper half of Scabior's left arm. "Something has to be causing his fever. Now I'm not entirely certain but I think I know what's making him sick."

Ranca unwound the bandages around Scabior's arm. Moments later a thin foul aroma wafted into the air.

"What's that smell?" Violet asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She then gasped in shock and revulsion as Ranca finished removing the last of the bandages, revealing the deep gash on Scabior's arm that had become severely infected.

Violet clamped a hand over her mouth, staring wide eyed at the inflamed mass on his arm. The area around the wound was swollen with red streaks trailing down towards his elbow. The stench coming from the infected wound was putrid. It was a wonder Scabior hadn't noticed it before.

"Well," said Ranca, "I think we know now why he isn't feeling so good."

"That looks awful," said Violet, lowering her hand. "And painful." She wondered if Scabior was in any pain from the infection. Though from the looks of it there was no way something that badly infected couldn't be causing him a great deal of pain.

Scabior shifted slightly in bed, causing the damp cloth to slide a few inches off his forehead as he turned away from the sound of their voices.

Violet picked up the washcloth. She could feel that it had already warmed significantly, so she placed it back in the bowl of cool water before wringing it out again and dabbing it against Scabior's flushed cheeks.

Her care and attentiveness did not go unnoticed by Ranca, who was carefully watching her from beneath his shaggy mass of dirty blond hair. He watched as she spoke softly to his ailing master, offering words of comfort as Scabior slowly opened his eyes.

By now Scabior had partially regained some of his senses and was attempting to talk, mumbling incoherently as Violet replaced the washcloth on his forehead. His eyes drifted closed again, and for a minute it appeared as though he'd fallen asleep.

"I think I know how Scabior became sick," said Ranca, looking over at Violet as she tended to his master. "These last few days he's been more concerned about protecting you than looking after his own health and well being. He's been so focused on you he hasn't been taking care of himself.

"This has never happened before. Scabior's own needs always take priority over everyone else's. He never puts someone else before himself. You must really mean a lot to him in order for him to put you first."

Violet was momentarily stunned by his words. Since when was she ever good enough to be worth so much time and attention from anyone, let alone a member of the opposite sex? There was nothing beautiful or outstanding about her general appearance. Her short brown hair was oily and she was atleast twenty pounds overweight. She was fairly certain that her looks didn't qualify her as a beauty queen, so why would Scabior think she was anything special?

Scabior opened his eyes, his vision slightly blurred as he stared blankly at the ceiling above.

"Violet..." he murmured.

"I'm here, Scabior," she softly replied. "It's alright. I'm right here, sweetie."

Ranca watched in amazement as Violet removed the warm washcloth from his master's forehead, placing it back in the bowl of cool water before leaning in close to Scabior, smoothing a few wet strands of his long hair out of his face, then placing a gentle kiss on his fevered brow.

Scabior sighed faintly, his body relaxing as her lips made contact with his hot flesh. He then felt her fingers in his hair as she reached around to the back of his head and removed the ribbon that held his hair tied back in a loosely braided ponytail.

"There," Violet said, gently fluffing his tangled tresses with one hand as the other set the ribbon on the nightstand. "You should feel more comfortable without that mass at the back of your neck."

The corners of Scabior's mouth pulled upwards as he smiled at her. "Thank you, love. Tha does feel better."

Ranca watched as Violet continued to stroke Scabior's hair for a while longer before wringing out the washcloth again and placing it back on Scabior's forehead.

Wasn't she supposed to be Scabior's prisoner? Wasn't Violet supposed to want to escape the Snatchers, not get close to their leader and caress his hair while he lay in bed sick and injured from fighting to protect her?

Somewhere along the lines things had changed between them. Their feelings for each other were growing stronger each day, and one could call what they had now the beginning of a relationship.

Ranca shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. He knew that Scabior fancied her, but he never imagined that she might love him back.

"Violet, please," he said, drawing her attention away from his master. "Scabior needs medical attention as soon as possible. We need to figure out what to do to get him the help he needs."

"Don't any of you Snatchers know any healing spells?" Violet asked.

"No, unfortunately we don't. Scabior knows a few basic healing charms, but nothing that would help him in his current condition."

"What about taking him to the hospital?"

"No." Ranca seemed strongly opposed to that particular suggestion. "Scabior absolutely hates being in the hospital. Taking him to St. Mungo's would only be done as a last resort."

"You two do realize tha I'm right 'ere listening to you, don't you?" Scabior grumbled, his words garbled with exhaustion.

Both Violet and Ranca turned to see Scabior glaring at them, his pale blue eyes half closed and bleary. Nither one of them were able to clearly understand what he was saying, though Violet thought she could catch at least one or two of his words.

Violet's brow furrowed with concern as she listened to Scabior's slow, slurred speech. He was conscious, but he was barely able to move or speak.

"If we can't heal him and we can't take him to the hospital, then what other options are there?" she asked.

"I think the best thing to do would be to take him to the Malfoys," said Ranca. "Scabior is good friends with them, and Mrs. Malfoy is known to possess some moderate healing skills. There's a good change that they'd be willing to help him."

Upon hearing this Violet's expression brightened. "You really think they'll help him?"

"Yes, I do," Ranca said with a nod. "Lucius Malfoy has helped Scabior before, and I see no reason why he wouldn't help him again. The only problem is how to get Scabior to Malfoy manor. I don't know if he's strong enough to apparate there."

The instant Ranca's words reached Scabior the ailing Snatcher's glazed eyes shot open, the cloth slipping off his forehead as he struggled to push himself up onto his elbows in bed. This action turned out to be a mistake as a deep stabbing pain tore though the muscles of his upper left arm, causing him to scream in agony as he collapsed onto his back in bed.

"Scabior, no!" Violet exclaimed. "What're you doing?"

"Ranca..." Scabior snarled, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm.

Ranca ducked down out of sight behind the foot of the bed, both hands covering his head as he attempted to hide behind the trunk containing Scabior's collection of books and other personal belongings.

"I 'ave more than enough strength to apparate to Malfoy manor," Scabior hissed through his teeth, speaking more clearly this time. "Enough to kill you if I wanted to, Ranca!"

Violet gasped and took a few steps away from Scabior's bed. She'd never seen this side of him before, his eyes ablaze with a fierce inner strength that warned all within his reach to stand clear and not provoke him.

"Master, please," Ranca whimpered pitifully. "Please, I'm so sorry, boss."

"Shut it!" Scabior snapped harshly, now managing to sit upright in bed. He flung the covers off himself and staggered out of bed, still somewhat unsteady on his feet. His breathing had become labored and he appeared as though he were on the verge of collapsing again.

"Go tell the others they 'ave five minutes to pack their things before we leave for Malfoy manor," Scabior rasped, breathing heavily through his mouth as he removed his wand from a pocket in his jacket.

"But sir..." Ranca said, barely daring to speak for fear of provoking his master's wrath.

"Three minutes!" Scabior shouted, and Ranca bolted from the tent.

As soon as the Snatchers had magically packed their tents, supplies and belongings, Scabior took hold of Violet by the arm and prepared to dissapperate.

As he held her, Violet couldn't help but notice the intense heat radiating off Scabior's skin. He felt positively burning hot to the touch and he was swaying slightly where he stood, his eyes half closed again and glazed over.

"Scabior, are you sure you're well enough to do this?" Violet asked. "Maybe we should wait a while. I'm pretty good with herbs. I could look for some useful plants in the woods and try making a healing polultice for your arm."

"Don't talk to me right now, pet," said Scabior, his voice low and weary. "I 'ave to concentrate so I don't get myself splinched."

Violet reached around Scabior, her arm around his waist as she hugged his body close to hers.

Their eyes met as Scabior looked down at her, her eyes pleading with him more than words could ever say. She knew how stubborn and aggressive he became when he was ill, but that didn't stop her from wanting to help him in any way she could.

Scabior's eyes narrowed, his upper lip curling into a sneer as he glared at her.

"Please," Violet whispered, tightening her hold on him. "Let me help you."

"Fine," Scabior sighed. He released his hold on her, glancing around to make sure the others weren't watching as Violet wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders, supporting his weight and holding him steady.

"Thank you, sweet'eart," he whispered back just before vanishing from sight and taking her along with him.

Scabior was soon grateful for her hold on him, for as soon as his feet touched the gravel walkway outside of Malfoy manor he stumbled and almost fell, his injured ankle throbbing painfully from the rough landing.

The ailing Snatcher looked around, taking a minute to get his bearings before moving away from Violet and sliding out of her grasp.

"I'll walk, pet," he told her, already taking a few slow steps forward. "It's not far now. I can make it on my own from 'ere."

Violet looked worried and wasn't happy with his decision to walk the rest of the way. She would have felt better if Ranca had put him on the stretcher again. But since that option was definitely out of the question the only thing she could do was follow along close beside Scabior and remain alert for any sign that he was going to pass out again.

It wasn't far from the gravel walkway to the tall wrought iron gates that formed the entrance to Malfoy manor, only about a half mile or so along a flat path.

Scabior thought he could make it the rest of the way without assistance. After all he had managed to walk several miles from camp earlier that morning. But he was light headed and his sight was swimming, distorting his vision as the iron gates loomed before him, making the two inch thick bars appear to undulate in hazy waves of black fog as the edges of his vision began to darken.

Scabior groaned low in his throat. His body felt heavy, his legs didn't want to move as he forced himself to continue taking step after step forward down the path.

Through his clouded vision Scabior could just make out a figure standing by the gate. No doubt the wards around the manor had already alerted its owners their presence outside.

'Nearly there,' Scabior thought. 'Lucius or Narcissa...it must be one of them waiting up ahead."

Scabior swallowed hard. His mouth and throat were dry as he gasped and fought for breath. Something was wrong. It shouldn't be this difficult for him to breathe. Could it be that the infection was worse than he thought?

Violet was beside him, her voice frantically calling his name. But her words seemed to be coming from somewhere far away, muffled and distant. Scabior couldn't hear her. He didn't even realize that he had collapsed again.

"Violet..." he faintly murmured, trying in vain to reach out to her, his vision fading as he sunk deeper into blackness, into water, the heavy waves of shadow and heat pulling him under as the sunlight faded to absolute black, to nothingness.


	9. Long Nights

Violet was in tears as Narcissa lowered Scabior's unconscious form onto the wide bed that occupied the corner of the guest bedroom. Ranca wrapped his arm around the sobbing witch, trying his best to comfort her. But it wasn't enough. She wanted to hear the sound of Scabior's voice, wanted to see him awake and well again. And so she continued to weep against Ranca's chest as he held her and rubbed her back in an effort to calm her.

Lucius entered the room a minute later, bringing with him the supplies necessary for treating Scabior's illness and infection.

"This is ridiculous," Lucius muttered shaking his head. "First of all Scabior knows better than to allow himself to become so seriously ill. Second, I would have preferred it he had been taken to St. Mungo's."

"We can treat him here, darling," Narcissa said, giving her husband a reassuring pat on the arm. "We just need to be quick about this before he gets any worse."

Lucius huffed out an irritated sigh. "That man belongs in the hospital! You weren't there the last time he was like this. You didn't see how the illness nearly overwhelmed his entire system."

"Lucius, calm yourself, please," Narcissa told her husband as she finished removing the last of the clothing on Scabior's upper body, leaving the head Snatcher in nothing but his boots and plaid pants. She neatly piled the garments on the floor beside the bed then carefully lifted Scabior's left shoulder off the mattress, placing a soft clean towel beneath his upper left arm and shoulder. "We'll do what we can for him, Lucius. He'll be fine. This isn't going to be like last time."

The truth of the matter was that Scabior was in the early stages of blood poisoning. Already his temperature had risen well above 103° and was continuing to climb. His pulse was rapid, and even lying unconscious in bed he was struggling to breathe.

Lucius sighed heavily in frustration. He seriously doubted that they'd be able to help Scabior, and it went against his better judgment to try treating the man here when he should have been taken to St. Mungo's.

Using a cutting hex Narcissa carefully opened the wound on Scabior's arm. Blood, along with a large amount of pus, began oozing from the wound, soaking into the surface of the towel Scabior was laying on.

Violet was watching now, her face stained with tears as she forced herself to remain calm. She watched as Lucius unstoppered a glass bottle filled with some sort of bright orange potion. He added a few drops of the potion to a bowl of water on the nightstand beside the bed. The surface of the water bubbled and hissed, emitting thin whisps of white smoke into the air for several seconds before becoming calm and still once again. The water then changed into a rich deep amber, matching the color of the potion in the bottle.

"We have to wait for the pus to drain before cleaning and disinfecting the wound," said Narcisa, wiping off the excess blood and infected material with a moist washcloth.

"Is this bothering you?" Ranca asked, looking down at Violet as he relinquished his hold on her since she was no longer crying or appeared in need of comfort. "We can wait outside if you want."

"No, I'm fine," Violet replied. "I want to stay here with Scabior."

"Alright then." Ranca took a few steps back and leaned his back against the wall. "I'll be right here if you need me."

As Violet continued to watch Narcissa flushed out the wound with the amber colored water, carefully cleaning and disinfecting the injury. She dressed the wound with fresh bandages. Then her husband stepped forward, carrying a bottle of royal blue potion in his hand, and pointed his wand at Scabior's chest.

"Rennervate," Lucius muttered quietly, and Scabior's eyes slowly opened.

Scabior groaned, blinking his eyes as he looked around the room in a daze.

Lucius pressed the potion bottle to Scabior's lips. "You need to drink this, Scabior," he said, one hand holding the bottle and the other hand behind Scabior's head, lifting his head a few inches off the pillow. "It'll help with your fever."

It took Scabior a moment to process Lucius' words in his mind and understand what he was hearing. Once he understood what was happening he gladly swallowed the potion before closing his eyes and falling asleep a minute later.

Lucius turned to his wife, a sly smirk on his face. "I snuck a few drops of sleeping potion in with the fever reducer. That ought to keep him out for a couple hours."

Narcissa looked as though she didn't approve of his actions. "I don't think that was necessary, Lucius."

"Trust me, it is necessary," Lucius insisted. "Like I said before, you weren't there the last time something like this happened. And I'd rather not listen to him screaming obscenities at us when we refuse to let him out of bed before he's fully recovered. Besides, the sleeping potion will help him get the rest he needs. So I'd say I'm doing him, as well as everyone within earshot of his overly loud and vulgar mouth, a favor by giving this to him."

Narcissa sighed and shook her head. She gathered up the potion bottles, the bowl which now contained only about half an inch of amber colored liquid, and the soiled towel. She then left the room, telling the others that she would return in a minute.

All was quiet for a moment after she left. Lucius then turned to Violet, narrowing his eyes as he cocked his head to the side, peering down at her with curiosity present in his expression.

"You look somewhat familiar," he said. "Tell me, have we met before?"

"No, sir, I don't think we have," said Violet, feeling a bit puzzled by his question. She was quite sure that she had never met Lucius before, but the look in his eyes clearly seemed to register some sort of familiarity with her even though she had no memory of him.

"What is your name?" Lucius asked.

"Stregheria, Violet Stregheria."

Lucius raised his eyebrows as his expression brightened. "Ah yes, the Stregherias. Now I remember. My wife and I used to visit your family several years ago. You were just a small child at the time. Perhaps you were too young to remember our visits."

The door opened as Narcissa walked back into the room, carrying a bowl of cool water and a washcloth.

"Lucius, would you please show our guests where they'll be staying?" she asked as she draped the damp cloth over Scabior's forehead. She waved her wand over Scabior's bed, causing the blanket to slide out from under him and cover his feverishly warm body from the waist down. Another wave of her wand and Scabior's boots joined the neat pile of clothing on the floor. "Sugar is already waiting in the hall to help our guests with their things once they're in their rooms."

"Sugar?" Violet queried.

"She's our new house elf," Lucius explained. "Since our old elf was...er, prematurely withdrawn from service, if you will, we've had to purchase a new elf. She's a rare and expensive breed called a - " his lip curled in mild disgust as he said the word, "candytuff."

Narcissa put a hand over her mouth and giggled.

"My wife insisted on purchasing her," Lucius continued. "Apparently women like elves of the candytuff variety because of their supposedly cute appearance."

"Are they really that cute?" Violet asked.

Lucius took a few steps back and opened the door leading out into the hallway. There in the hall stood a small elf with pale pink skin, large eyes containing deep blue irises, and a small whispy tuft of thin pink hair on her head.

The house elf's large ears perked up as soon as Lucius opened the door, and she gazed fondly at him, eagerly awaiting her next order.

Violet looked down at the elf and a wide smile spread across her face. "Oh my gosh! She's adorable!"

The house elf blushed, her pale pink cheeks turning rosey red. "Thank you, ma'am," she squeaked in her high delicate voice. "You're very kind."

Violet turned her attention back to Narcissa and asked her if she could stay in the same room as Scabior. Narcissa approved of the idea, as did Ranca, and before long Sugar was helping unpack Scabior's belongings as Violet settled in for a long night in Malfoy manor.

\------------------

The late afternoon and early evening hours that followed seemed painfully slow, each minute dragging on for ages, carrying with it a century of time. During that time Violet stayed at Scabior's bedside, watching him, waiting for him to show some sign of improvement.

Unfortunately Scabior's condition didn't appear to be getting any better. His pulse was still rapid and irregular, his breathing was labored and his temperature now hovered close to 104°. Narcissa blamed this on Scabior waiting too long before seeking medical attention for illness.

"He should have come to us sooner," Narcissa said. "Or better yet had Ranca send us his patronus so we could come to him. All he had to do was explain the situation and we would have gladly gone out to help him."

"I thought of that, Mrs. Malfoy," said Ranca. "But I didn't want to trouble you and your husband by asking you to come all the way out into the woods with us."

"Really Ranca, it's no trouble at all," Narcissa insisted. "Scabior is like family to us. My husband has been friends with him since they were teenagers. We'd be offended if you didn't come to us when Scabior needs help."

"So what do we do now?" Violet asked. "It doesn't look like he's getting any better."

Narcissa placed a comforting hand on Violet's shoulder. "All we can do now is wait. Lucius will give him another dose of his potions in a couple hours. It's going to take time for Scabior to recover. And once he gets enough of those potions in his system, he should start feeling better in a few days."

Night settled over Malfoy manor. It was during the late hours of the evening that Scabior woke up.

While he was awake, Narcissa tried feeding Scabior some broth. It had been awhile since he'd last eaten, and he needed to replenish the fluids he'd lost due to his fever. But Scabior refused to eat. His speech slurred and his thoughts somewhat confused from the infection and fever, the best any of them could make out from Scabior's limited ability to communicate was that he was too nauseous to eat anything.

"Just...just give me...the potions," Scabior murmured, breathless and still struggling to breathe. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from Narcissa and her attempts to feed him.

Lucius shook his head, his brow creasing with concern as he looked over at his wife.

Narcissa frowned and handed the bowl of broth to Sugar who returned it to the kitchen. The blond witch then cast a basic charm over Scabior to check his vital signs, only to discover that his blood pressure had dropped below normal.

"We need to raise his blood pressure before he goes into shock, Lucius."

"Here. Let me handle this." Lucius drew his wand and reached towards Scabior's wrist, turning his hand palm up and pressing the back of his hand against the mattress.

Scabior opened his eyes halfway, gazing down at his right hand as he watched Lucius turn it over and firmly grasp his forearm.

"Wha...wha are you doing?"

"Have Sugar bring me a towel and a large bottle of water," Lucius told his wife, ignoring Scabior's questioning glances as the Snatcher's eyes darted from his upturned wrist to Lucius' face. "Tell her to mix two teaspoons of salt in with the water. And make sure it's heated slightly so that the salt dissolves in the warm water."

When Sugar returned with the items Lucius requested, the blond wizard had her place the towel under Scabior's right arm. Lucius then tightened his hold on Scabior's forearm, the tip of his wand hovering about an inch above his wrist.

"Hold him still," Lucius told his wife. "Do not let him move his arm while I am doing this. If he moves, or I do this wrong, it could kill him."

With one brief flick of his wand Lucius cut open Scabior's wrist, making an incision with a cutting hex. Scabior screamed, blood now oozing from the incision in his wrist and trickling onto the towel beneath him. Lucius then cast a spell to send the lukewarm saltwater from the bottle directly into a vein in Scabior's wrist.

This was the only way people in the wizarding world had to administer fluids intravenously. It was a procedure that was rarely done, due to the fact that a majority of people in the wizarding world were strongly opposed to the notion of cutting people open the way muggles often do. But in an emergency even wizards would sometimes resort to unorthodox methods if it meant saving someone's life.

Scabior lay still, gasping and groaning as Lucius directed the fluid into the vein in his wrist. The liquid burned as it entered through the incision. And every now and then Scabior would struggle or squirm before his strength failed him and he became still once more.

Within a couple minutes the treatment was over, and Scabior's breathing had eased somewhat as a result of receiving about eight ounces of the makeshift saline solution.

Lucius cleaned up the blood on Scabior's wrist, then sealed the incision with a few drops of essence of dittany.

"You could have been a healer, Lucius," said Narcissa. "I've told you that many times, dear."

"No," said Lucius. "I don't want that kind of responsibility. Because then it would be my fault if someone died. And we should give Scabior a blood purifying potion," he added. "He needs something to clean the infection out of his system."

"Do we have any of that?"

"No, but I should be able to make some."

Narcissa couldn't help but smile. In her heart she knew her husband always had a knack for the healing arts. If he hadn''t decided to become a Death Eater and work for the Ministry of Magic, his life might have taken a very different route indeed.

It took some time but Lucius was able to brew the blood purifying potion. He stayed up late that night working on it, while Violet and Narcissa stayed close by, tending to the ailing Snatcher as he lay in a semiconscious daze, burning with fever and periodically uttering low moans of pain every now and then.

Violet sat beside Scabior in bed. Looking down at him, she could see that there were dark circles under his eyes from the many nights he'd been staying up late. His long wild brown hair was tousled and moist with perspiration, fanned out in disarray on the pillow. Here and there a few stray strands stuck to his face and neck, clinging to his warm flesh and sticking to the thin layer of perspiration that coated his body.

Beneath him the bedsheets were positively soaked with perspiration. Scabior felt chilled despite the heat burning in his body, and was constantly shivering.

Most troubling of all was Scabior's breathing, which broke and hitched in strange rhythms throughout the night. It was the sound of his harsh breathing that worried Violet the most.

It took Lucius just over an hour to brew the blood purifying potion. When the potion had cooled enough he spooned some of it into a glass and brought it to Scabior.

Within a few minutes of being given the blood purifying potion, Scabior's constant shivering stopped. His eyes closed and his body seemed to relax as the potion began working to rid his system of the toxins in his blood. He was nearly asleep when Lucius nudged him and told him that he still needed to take two more potions before he could be allowed to rest.

Scabior nodded wearily, just wanting this to be over so he could slip back into the peaceful oblivion of sleep. He drank the last two potions Lucius gave him, falling asleep almost immediately after swallowing the last dose given to him.

The next morning Scabior was finally showing signs of improvement. His temperature had gone down to 102° and his breathing had become fairly regular. He seemed more alert when he woke up, though still extremely exhausted and out of it at times. And he allowed Narcissa to feed him a bit of broth since he was no longer nauseous.

Scabior swore and grit his teeth in pain as Narcissa cleaned his wound and changed his bandages, then drank another dose of the potions when Lucius offered them to him. He was still being given the blood purifying potion as it would take more than a single dose to completely rid his body of the toxins in his bloodstream.

Lucius could see that Scabior was in pain and offered to bring him a pain relieving potion, but Scabior refused to take it, telling the blond wizard that he didn't want it. Lucius tried to persuade him to think otherwise, but Scabior stubbornly told him no.

"Well look at it this way, Lucius," said Narcissa. "At least Scabior is behaving more like his usual self again."

"That's why I'd rather he was taken to the hospital when this began," Lucius grumbled. "They're better trained and equipped to handle patients like him than we are."

"Really, Lucius?" Narcissa said doubtfully, rasing an eyebrow as she glanced over at her husband. "And I suppose the stories about the three mediwitches he hexed to get out of St. Mungo's were untrue?"

Lucius sighed and rolled his eyes. "Scabior was extremely upset that morning and he had every reason to be. He doesn't normally behave that way."

While Lucius and Narcissa continued their conversation in hushed tones outside the guest bedroom, Scabior meanwhile had gone to sleep thanks to yet another dose of Lucius' sleeping potion. Violet sat on the side of the bed, watching him sleep. It wasn't until mid afternoon that her tired body finally gave out and she fell asleep sitting on the floor next to Scabior's bed.

The room was dark when Violet awoke hours later. The sun had set behind the distant mountaintops and a single candle was flickering atop the dresser.

As she opened her eyes, Violet became aware of a figure bending down in front of her in the darkened room. It was Narcissa and she was covering Violet with a blanket to keep her warm.

Violet stirred slightly, not fully awake as she mumbled something in her groggy state of half sleep. The only word Narcissa could make out was Scabior's name.

"Sshh. It's alright, darling," Narcissa whispered, tucking a pillow behind Violet's head. "Scabior is resting comfortably and is doing much better tonight. He's going to be just fine, dear. Now go back to sleep and get some rest."

Violet turned her head to the side, watching Scabior sleep as the dim candlelight cast flickering shadows across his face. She could tell by the sound of his breathing and the relaxed features of his face that his health was improving, and knowing this helped her relax as she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

"Come to me..." a voice whispered from out of the dark.

Violet looked up from where she sat upon the cold floor. The floor was like ice, like black ice, polished and dark as obsidian, hard as diamond. And as she looked up the shadows parted like curtains of billowing black silk, flowing like rippling waves of liquid onyx, revealing the face of a ghostly pale man standing before her, reaching out through the dark as he spoke to her.

His hair was white and limp. It hung to his shoulders, damp and cold as though he'd passed through a brief rain shower. His aura was cold as ice, and as he drew near to her Violet could feel a significant drop in the temperature around her.

"Closer, my heart," he said softly, his voice like cold wind flowing over the fields in winter. "Let us see who you truly were inside."

Violet felt drawn to him, her eyes unblinking as though she had entered a trance. She stared ahead, her mind now reduced to an empty haze as she took his hand and felt the strength of his aura pulsing through her body.

It felt as though there was ice water coursing through her veins. The pale man's lips drew back in a wicked smile as he heard her gasp in shock as the sudden chill of his touch pierced her flesh.

His magic was strong, more powerful perhaps than any she had known before. And as he tightened his hold on her, Violet knew that there was no escape, that all efforts to flee were futile.

A cold wind began to blow around them, whipping the man's hair about his face as he laughed, his voice echoing in the vast expanse of blackness that surrounded them.

"I will help you remember..." he said as the room began to spin and Violet's eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed, sinking down into the eternal freezing darkness of the void that awaited her.

When she opened her eyes, Violet found herself viewing a scene that appeared to be a moment from her childhood. She was younger then, the four year old version of herself sat on the floor before her, playing with a small stuffed duck while a Siamese kitten sat cleaning himself on the carpet beside her.

Lucius Malfoy sat sipping from a glass of wine on the sofa while his wife sat in an overstuffed armchair next to Violet's mother. All was well for several minutes as the adults engaged in pleasant conversation. Then Violet's mother informed her four year old daughter that it was time for her to go to bed, and suddenly the atmosphere changed to one of anxiety and fear.

The next thing Violet knew she was watching her four year old self as she lie awake in bed. The younger version of herself was paralyzed, completely unable to move. A tall man, one who was unfamiliar to the adult witch, leaned over the little girl in bed, whispering softly to her in a sickly sweet seductive manner.

He stroked her hair, running his hand down the length of her body while the frightened child cried noiselessly, warm tears streaming down her face. His hand then moved upwards, caressing her thigh as his fingers began to rub the delicate flesh beneath her nightgown.

It was then that Violet's eyes opened wide as she was awakened from her nightmare by the sound of Scabior snoring in bed beside her.

Violet blinked and stared ahead into the darkened room in silence. The candle atop the dresser was burning low and all around her the room was bathed in darkness. Her heart was racing frantically in her chest and she could not shake the image from her mind that she had just witnessed in her nightmare.

Who was that man from her dreams? Why were the images in her mind so disturbingly vivid and life like? She could feel the man's touch as he'd caressed her soft flesh. She remembered how cold his hands were, how it felt to be frozen by his magic, unable to move or escape.

But it was just a dream, right? Violet had no memory of such events occurring in her past. And it certainly wasn't a vision of her future.

She eventually let the surreal images fade from her mind, and after an hour of lying awake on the floor she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.


	10. La Bella Intolerance

Three days passed before Scabior began showing any real signs of improvement. Though he continued to run a low fever, his infection was slowly clearing up and his wounds were beginning to heal. His appetite returned, and aside from being very tired Scabior was feeling much better.

"I wish you didn't 'ave to see me like this," Scabior softly murmured as Violet laid down in bed beside him.

He'd been wanting to get out of bed, to stretch his legs and get some exercise and fresh air after being in bed for so long. But Narcissa felt that he should stay in bed and rest a while longer. When Scabior refused to listen to her, Violet found it fairly easy to convince him to stay in bed if she laid down with him.

"Why is that?" Violet asked. "What's wrong with me seeing you like this?"

Scabior sighed. "It makes me feel weak. I'm not used to people seeing me like this. Usually I'm alone. I prefer to take care of myself without the 'elp of others."

"You're not weak, Scabior. You're one of the strongest people I know." Violet stroked the side of his face, running the back of her hand across the thin layer of stubble on his cheek. "I bet it takes a lot of strength and cunning to lead the Snatchers."

"It does," Scabior agreed, allowing himself a small smile. "Though I'm a bit surprised, love. All this from a supporter of the Order, from someone who thinks so 'ighly of Dumbledore."

"None of that matters anymore because I've found something more important. Something that means a lot to me. "

"And wha would tha be?" Scabior asked, taking a strand of her hair and twisting it around his fingers.

"You," she replied. "I've found you and I want to stay here with you, Scabior."

His smile spread into a pleasant grin. "You still care about me even though I'm a Snatcher? Even after seeing me at my worst like this?"

"Of course I do," said Violet, now letting her fingers brush against the smooth skin of his bare chest. "How could I not? I love you, Scabior. I thought you knew that by now."

Scabior exhaled sharply, her touch inflaming his desire for her.

"Careful now, pet," he said, taking hold of her wrist and moving her hand off his chest. "I'm not sure I'm ready for such excitement just yet."

Violet smiled and giggled. "Oh really?" she purred in a seductive voice.

"You 'ave no idea wha you do to me, do you?" Scabior queried, gazing deeply into her eyes as he spoke.

She leaned forward, her forehead lightly touching his brow as she wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, I think I have some idea, Scabior. But just in case I don't, how does it make you feel when I do this?"

Her lips met his, and in an instant Scabior felt a driving surge of passionate lust leap up like a raging inferno in his heart.

He kissed her back, her lips parting as his tongue sought entrance to her mouth. For a moment Scabior forgot about his illness. He forgot that he was currently residing in Malfoy manor, and that one of the Malfoys or their house elf could walk in on them snogging any minute now. He simply let his thoughts go and allowed the flames in his heart to consume him.

They were both breathless when they finally came apart. Scabior looked at her and said, "On second thought, I think I like a bit of company whilst I'm ill. Just so long as the company is you and no one else. In fact I think I'm feeling better already just from 'aving you 'ere with me."

"How's your arm?" asked Violet.

"It still 'urts a bit, but it's getting better," Scabior replied. He then put his good arm around her and let his eyes close as he drifted off to sleep. He was tired. And though he was recovering well Scabior still spent a good portion of his day sleeping.

A few minutes later Violet closed her eyes as well, snuggling close to him as she joined him in the peaceful land of slumber.

When they awoke a few hours later, their conversation continued where it left off as though sleep had not interrupted them.

"Violet, do you realize tha, when I was unconscious in the forest, you could 'ave disapparated an escaped once you were beyond the campsite?"

"Actually Scabior the thought never crossed my mind," said Violet. "I was more concerned about finding you and making sure you were alright."

"Yes, Ranca did say tha you were rather 'elpful," Scabior said thoughtfully. "But you 'onestly never thought about leaving me or trying to escape? Not even for a second?"

"Would I still be here if I had?"

"Then I think it's time this was returned to you."

Scabior got out of bed, limping slightly on his right foot. He walked over to where his jacket was draped over the back of the chair that was tucked under the desk and removed a wand made of pine from one of the pockets in his jacket.

"Take it," he said, holding her wand out to her. "I believe this belongs to you."

Violet hesitated, staring at him in stunned disbelief. A full five seconds passed before she reached out and took her wand from him.

"You 'ave proven to me tha I can trust you," said Scabior. "Keep in mind tha my trust is fragile when it is new. But I don't think you are going to try to 'ex me an run away. An I no longer consider you my prisoner."

He walked back to bed, pausing to look at her as he stopped and placed one hand on the headboard. "Though to be 'onest I'm not quite sure wha to think of you as now," he said, raising an eyebrow as he considered her for a moment. "I wouldn't call you my lover though I know you 'ave feelings for me. An I don't think the term 'girlfriend' applies just yet."

It was a good question. What was she if she wasn't his prisoner? Violet hadn't thought about it before. She'd begun a relationship with this undeniably attractive young wizard without even realizing what she was doing. She'd given him her heart, finding love where she least expected it, where she never thought to look.

She never imagined that she'd end up with a Snatcher. Before she met Scabior she'd had plans of joining the Order. She wanted to stand alongside them as they fought to return peace to the wizarding world, and this desire only grew stronger as she listened to her mother preaching the ways of the Dark Lord to all that would listen. All that faded the instant she had been snatched by Scabior. He'd done more than capture her, he'd snatched her heart.

"You once referred to me as your 'new woman,'" she reminded him as Scabior sat down beside her on the bed. "I think I like the way that sounds, that I'm yours, like I belong with you. That sounds right to me." She paused, looking up and gazing into his pale blue-grey eyes. "Yes, that does sound right to me. I like it."

She was smiling now, her heart a flutter with love and happiness the likes of which she'd never known before.

"You can call me your woman if you want," she continued. "Though I feel that this has the potential to become more than that."

Scabior chuckled softly. "I do 'ope tha this is real, pet. I don't want to wake up an discover tha you were merely a figment of my imagination, dreamed up whilst I was feverish an delirious."

"This is real, Scabior," she said, once more putting her arms around him, pulling his body close to hers. "And I'm not going anywhere."

By the time five days had passed Scabior was feeling more like his usual self again. His temperature had returned to normal, and he started getting out of bed and showing Violet around the manor.

"Lucius an I go way back. Back to when we were both in school together," Scabior explained as he and Violet walked down one of the long corridors in Malfoy manor.

Violet marveled at the many beautiful paintings that lined the walls as they walked along the corridor. Unicorns pranced gracefully beneath rainbows in fields of lush green grass, while in other paintings the dark leaves on a dense forest rustled in the wind as an owl hooted softly and landed on a branch in the dark woods.

A pack of wolves emerged from within the shadowy depths of the forest painting, watched by the owl as they stopped to drink from a crystal clear stream shimmering in the silver light of the moon.

One of the wolves in the painting raised its head to howl at the moon, causing Violet to gasp as she stared in awe at the magnificent creature.

"You like tha one?" Scabior asked.

"It's so beautiful," Violet whispered, touching her fingertips to the painted canvas. "I love wolves. They're one of my favorite animals."

A young wolf pup gamboled up to Violet. He opened his mouth, smiling at her from within the portrait beside her hand. Violet gazed at him wistfully, wishing she could reach into the painting and stroke the adorable little pup.

A childish giggling from further down the hall caught their attention, and both Violet and Scabior turned their heads in the direction of the sound.

Bellatrix Lestrange stepped out of the adjacent hallway, her dark eyes alight with mischief. She leaned back against the wall, folding her arms across her chest.

"Scabior, how nice to see you again," she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

Scabior tensed visibly the moment she spoke his name, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her with loathing undisguised.

"What do you want, Bella?" Scabior spat out harshly.

"Oh, nothing much," Bellatrix answered, feigning innocence. "I was just wondering how my favorite Snatcher is doing. Heard we had a bit of an accident, didn't we?"

Violet looked up at Scabior and was shocked to see the expression of complete and utter hatred and revulsion etched into the lines of his face.

"We?" Scabior echoed, taking a step forward. "No, 'we' didn't 'ave an accident. I was protecting 'er from someone I found lurking around my campsite."

Bellatrix laughed. She seemed to find their conversation amusing.

"Protecting her?" Bellatrix chuckled. "How delightful! You must really like this one, don't you?"

"Tha's none of your fucking business!"

The light suddenly flickered and faded from Bellatrix's eyes as her expression became dark and grim. She uncrossed her arms and began to walk down the long corridor towards Violet and Scabior.

"It is my business, Scabior," Bellatrix hissed, all traces of laugher and amusement now erased from her cruel features. "You seem to really care for this woman. And yet you haven't told her the truth about yourself yet, have you?"

Scabior ground his teeth together, unable to speak as fury made his blood begin to boil.

"No, of course you haven't," Bellatrix continued. "Otherwise she wouldn't still be here with you if she knew that you're not man enough to - "

Bellatrix never got to finish her sentence. With a yell of rage Scabior charged at her, his wand drawn as he slammed her up against the wall with such force it rattled the paintings on the wall.

"Your business?!" Scabior shouted, his wand pressed against her throat. "Your business? It's your fault!"

Violet ran forward, seizing Scabior by the arm as she attempted to pull him off Bellatrix. But he was too strong and Violet couldn't make him budge a single inch.

"You miserable little bitch!" Scabior snarled in Bellatrix's face. "I've 'alf a mind to flay your 'ide to dollrags!"

In that moment, just as Scabior's rage reached it's peak and he prepared to curse Bellatrix into oblivion, Violet's vision went black, only to be replaced seconds later by a jumble of disjointed voices and images that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

She saw Lucius banging his walking stick against the door of Scabior's prison cell and shouting at the guards to release him at once.

"I'm worried about him," Lucius' voice said, echoing faintly in Violet's mind as the images shifted and changed, overlapping one another as the sounds and voices blurred together. "From the moment he wakes up he starts drinking. Every day he drinks until he passes out and collapses to the floor. He sleeps wherever he falls, only to wake up and start the process over again."

She saw Scabior lying in a hospital bed in St. Mungo's, then heard him screaming in pain and agonized fury, a terrible tormented sound as though he were being tortured.

The image changed again. Lucius was running down a hall in someone's house.

"Get out!" Scabior shouted, throwing a half empty bottle of firewhiskey at the wall. "Get out of my sight right now!"

Lucius ducked and ran down a flight of stairs, the bottle narrowly missing his head by a fraction of an inch as it shattered into a dozen splintered fragments against the wall.

"Scabior was extremely upset that morning," said Lucius, repeating the words Violet heard him speak only a few days ago. "And he had every right to be. He doesn't normally behave that way."

Violet watched in her mind as Scabior leaned against the wall in his bedroom before sliding down to sit on the floor. There was real pain visible in his eyes, a genuine hurt that cut deep into his heart.

"And since when have you been interested in that sort of thing anyway?" Lucius asked him, now standing in Scabior's bedroom.

"I just want the options I don't 'ave, Lucius," said Scabior, looking up at the blond wizard from beneath his tangled brown hair. "Per'aps, if there was nothing wrong with me, I would never 'ave given it a thought."

The next thing Violet knew she was back in Malfoy manor. She had collapsed to the floor and Narcissa was beside her, calling her name and trying to get her to respond.

Lucius was there too. He was attempting to calm Scabior down, who was torn between his concern for Violet and his desire to kill Bellatrix. Luckily Violet's fainting spell had distracted Scabior long enough for Lucius to separate them before the Snatcher could hex her. Bellatrix had also used the distraction to her advantage, taking the opportunity to flee the scene, laughing wildly as she ran down the corridor and vanished around the corner.

Violet blinked her eyes, moaning softly as she gazed around the corridor in a daze. She felt disoriented and groggy, and it took her a couple seconds to remember where she was.

"Easy now. Don't try moving around too much right away," said Narcissa as Violet slowly sat up. Narcissa looked up at her husband. "I think we should take her back to Scabior's room and let her lie down a bit. Poor child looks awfully pale."

Scabior watched in silence as Narcissa helped Violet to her feet. His heart was still pounding hard with furious anger, but he knew that he had to control himself for Violet's sake. She was more important than his hatred towards Bellatrix. And right now he felt fairly certain that he was the only one in the entire manor who had any idea why Violet had suddenly collapsed.

"Are you alright, Scabior?" Lucius asked, still keeping a firm grip on one of Scabior's shoulders.

"I'm fine," said Scabior, easing the blond wizard's hand off his shoulder. "If you don't mind I'd like to take Violet back to our room myself."

"It's alright, Scabior. I've got her," said Narcissa. But there was something in Scabior's voice and in the grim expression on his face when she looked at him that made her stop abruptly.

"Please." Scabior held out his hand to Violet. "Let me take 'er."

Narcissa paused and considered the situation for a moment before finally handing Violet over to Scabior. The head Snatcher then exited the corridor with Violet leaning on him, her steps a bit unsteady, as helped guide the dazed witch back to their room.

Scabior put his arm around Violet, leading her out of the corridor. His rage was quickly dissolving with every second that passed, though he still felt the painful sting of Bellatrix's words grating on his nerves like rubbing salt into an open wound.

'Er business indeed,' he thought bitterly. 'I'd like to introduce 'er arse to the business end of my boot!'

Upon entering the guest bedroom they were staying in, Scabior closed the door behind them with more force than necessary, slamming it shut with a resounding bang. The noise startled Violet, causing her to jump as the bedroom door slammed shut.

Scabior immediately crossed the room to where Violet was standing beside the bed.

"I'm sorry, pet," he apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you like tha. Tha woman...she 'as a way of getting to me, finding all my sore spots an picking at them mercilessly."

"What happened back there, Scabior? I've never seen so upset before."

Scabior paused, his eyebrows raised, looking at her with astonishment on his face. "You're more concerned about me after wha just 'appened to you?"

"She upset you," Violet pointed out. "Who is she anyway?"

Scabior's mouth opened but no sound came out. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He put his hands on her shoulders, easing her down into a sitting position on the mattress. "I think you need to lie down, sweet'eart."

Violet was tired. She didn't fight him or argue as he made her lie down. In fact she felt grateful for the chance to rest as exhaustion began creeping over her body, sapping her strength and making her eyelids heavy. But she wasn't ready to sleep just yet. First she wanted answers.

"What happened back there, Scabior?" she asked again. "Tell me, please."

"First tell me wha you saw," he said. "You did 'ave another vision, didn't you?"

"Yes," she said, hesitating somewhat. She wasn't sure what his reaction would be if he knew she'd seen pieces of what she believed to be moments from his past. "I saw you, Scabior."

"Wha was I doing?"

She hesitated again, longer this time, biting her bottom lip as she stared down at the thick midnight blue carpet.

"Pet?" Scabior said when Violet didn't answer his question. "Wha 'appened to me in your vision?"

Her silence was unnerving. It made him fear that she'd foreseen an unpleasant, or possibly even dangerous, event taking place in his future.

She inhaled a deep, calming breath, then told him the details of what she had seen.

A deepening silence filled the room as Violet finished speaking. Scabior looked horrified, his kohl lined eyes wide as he slowly backed towards the desk and sank down onto the chair, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

If she could have seen the expression on his face she would have seen a mixture of both anguish and anger, as well as absolute shock at what she had told him. Those memories, memories he'd kept buried for so long now, were almost too much to bear. If it weren't for the fact that he was a grown man he would have cried, pouring out his heart along with all the misery he had been keeping inside.

"Scabior?" Violet said softly after several long seconds had passed between them. "What did she do to you?"

"Let's put it this way, pet - if you stay with me long enough, you'll eventually figure it out." He then became silent once more, keeping his head down and his eyes closed as he fought to contain the emotions that raged inside him.

Violet couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was that she had seen in her vision. She knew that it was a scene from Scabior's past, and she was fairly certain that it must have had something to do with Bellatrix and the powerful emotions and memories she invoked in him. But there were pieces missing. She hadn't witnessed the entire scene or the events leading up to it.

She didn't have the whole story. The picture was incomplete. All she had was a Snatcher who wouldn't, or couldn't, bring himself to speak of the troubles of his past. But she had seen enough to know - and Scabior's behavior was enough to indicate - that something was wrong, that something had happened to him long ago, and that Bellatrix was most likely the one responsible.

"I've seen other things," said Violet when several minutes had passed without Scabior speaking a single word.

"Like wha?" Scabior groaned, finally lowering his hands onto his lap and raising his head. His tone of voice made it clear that he didn't really want to know what else she had seen. In fact he dreaded her response, thinking that it might be more painful memories from his past.

He stared at the wall in front of him, unable to meet her gaze as she continued speaking.

"A few nights ago I had a dream that I don't fully understand. I was a little girl in the dream, and my mother was there talking to Lucius and Narcissa. Everything was fine until..." Her words trailed off suddenly as fear sent chills down her spine, making her shiver and wrap her arms around herself for comfort.

"Until wha?" Scabior asked, still not looking at her.

"Until he came..." Violet shuddered. She drew her knees up against her chest, her body trembling. "I see him in my nightmares. This man with white hair and pale skin. His magic allows him the power to control snow, wind and ice. I don't know who he is, but I'm terrified of him and I don't know why."

Several more quiet seconds passed before Scabior finally spoke, asking her to tell him more.

"Lucius says that he and his wife used to visit my family when I was a child," said Violet. "But I have no memory of ever meeting him or Narcissa.

"I don't understand any of this. The dream I had was so real, so vivid. It seems like something that actually happened, and Lucius did say that they used to visit us, but I don't remember anything like that ever happening."

"'Ow old were you in the dream?"

"About four of five, I think."

Scabior pondered this thought for a minute. He then pushed the chair out behind him, stood up and made his way over to the door.

He paused, looking back at her over his shoulder with one hand on the doorknob. "I'm going to 'ave a talk with Lucius. In the meantime, I want you to take your dreamless sleep potion and get some rest. Will you do tha for me, pet?"

Violet nodded silently.

Scabior left the room, making sure to close the door more quietly behind him this time.

\------------------

"Is everything alright?" Lucius asked as Scabior entered the drawing room.

Scabior nodded, his expression somewhat weary.

"Yes, she's alright. She's just a bit stressed out from everything tha's gone on this week. She's tired. But after she rests up a bit she'll be fine."

"And you?"

Scabior sighed heavily, his hands in his pockets as he stared down at the floor.

Lucius walked over to the mahogany cabinet in the corner of the room. He removed a bottle of brandy from one of the shelves in the cabinet, along with two glasses.

"Would you care for a drink?" he asked, pouring some of the brandy into a glass and offering it to Scabior.

"Would I?" Scabior snatched the bottle from Lucius' hand and started drinking straight from the bottle.

Lucius frowned slightly and rolled his eyes.

After consuming nearly half the bottle of brandy in a single go, Scabior wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand and set the bottle down on a nearby table.

"Lucius, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Go on," said Lucius, taking a small sip of brandy from the glass that had originally been meant for Scabior.

"A couple days ago you mentioned to Violet 'ow you an Narcissa used to visit 'er family. Violet says she 'as no memory of this. An now I'm curious to learn more about these visits tha she doesn't remember."

Lucius' brow knitted together, the frown once again appearing for a moment on his face.

"I can tell you more about that particular topic if you wish. Although I don't know why she has difficulty recalling those visits. She might have been quite young when I first met her family, but the Malfoys and the Stregherias remained in contact for a number of years after our first meeting.

"I met the Stregherias shortly after graduating from Hogwarts," Lucius began. "They had just moved here from Italy, and it didn't take long for word to spread that they were supporters of the Dark Lord. In fact that's why they came to London in the first place. Violet's father was interested in becoming a Death Eater. So I went to them to discuss recruiting options."

He smirked as he spoke the last sentence and took another sip of brandy.

"Did 'er father become a Death Eater?" Scabior asked.

"Oh yes, indeed he did," replied Luciuis. "He stayed with us for a few years, and was an extremely dedicated and hard working servant to the Dark Lord. Right up until the day of his death shortly after the birth of his second child."

"I think I need another drink..."

Scabior reached for the bottle of brandy on the table and drank an entire glassful of the deep brown liquid before the conversation resumed.

"Didn't Violet ever tell you anything about her parents?" Lucius asked.

"Not really, no." Scabior shook his head. "She's told me about 'er mum, but she acts as though she never knew 'er father. She doesn't speak of him except to say that 'e left 'ome when she was a year old an never returned."

"Hmm..." Lucius pondered Scabior's words while slowly swirling the liquid in his glass. "Perhaps miss Violet was never informed by her mother that her father was one of us."

"I don't know. Though I imagine she would 'ave mentioned something like tha if she knew about it." Scabior sighed and took another swig of brandy. "Tell me, did anyone else ever accompany you an Narcissa during these visits? Say per'aps a man with pale skin an white 'air?"

"Yes," Lucius replied, looking a little surprised at Scabior's question. "How did you know that? Has Violet begun to remember something of our visits?"

You could say tha," Scabior said at length. "Or at least I think she 'as."

Lucius' expression changed to one of mild confusion. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Scabior hesitated, his gaze drifting to the corner of the room.

He knew he could trust Lucius better than any of his men. Lucius Malfoy was his best friend. And if he was going to tell anyone about Violet's visions and hidden abilities it would be him. He would have to tell Lucius about her gift if he wanted to unravel the mysteries of her forgotten past and the nightmares that were plaguing her.

"Tell me more about this bloke with the white 'air," said Scabior, looking back at Lucius. "I want to know more about 'im first."

"His name is Freeman Snowden," Lucius said. "He is...well, he's an odd sort of fellow. Always obsessed over many things."

"Like wha?"

"Like being the last in his family. He came from a line of purebloods far more ancient than my own. And he didn't want the Snowden family to end with him. He became obsessed with having a child to continue his family's bloodline. He even went so far as to suggest prearranged marriages to parents who had daughters as young as three years old."

"Do you think 'e did tha with Violet's parents?"

"I wouldn't put it past him." There was a glint of hatred in Lucius' cold grey eyes as he said this. "He'd sink low enough to achieve his goals by any means. He is a very sick and twisted man, Scabior. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he did try to arrange a marriage with Violet when she was young."

"So I take it this Snowden isn't very popular with the ladies. Otherwise 'e would 'ave been able to snatch one for 'imself."

"No, he's not popular with the ladies." Lucius' top lip curled in disgust. "He has an unhealthy attraction to young children. It's one of the many things he obsesses over. And this drove people away more than it welcomed them in. That's one of the reasons why I started distancing myself from him.

"The last time I saw him was shortly after Narcissa and I were married. He became insanely jealous of the two of us the moment he heard we were expecting our first child. He attacked Narcissa in a violent fit of rage. And after dueling with him to protect my pregnant wife, I promptly ejected him from the manor, making it very clear that he was no longer welcome in my house again."

Scabior paused, the bottle of brandy halfway to his open mouth. He slowly lowered the bottle, his eyes wide as he whispered, "'E attacked Narcissa?"

"Yes," Lucius said simply. "I have not seen him since. Nor do I ever wish to see him again."

For the second time that day Scabior felt anger rise up in his heart, and he gripped the bottle of brandy so tightly in his clenched fist that Lucius feared the bottle might shatter.

But Lucius did not know the extent of Scabior's anger or why he felt that way. He assumed it was due to Freeman's attack on Narcissa, and he was partly right. But Scabior's mind was now racing, filled to the brim with unpleasant thoughts concerning Violet's fear of Freeman.

What had Freeman done to cause such fear? Had he tried to hurt Violet as well? He he tried to rape or molest her? Had he possibly attempted to erase her memories of him when things went too far, so she couldn't go to anyone for help because she wouldn't remember who had hurt her?

"Scabior."

Lucius' smooth voice interrupted his thoughts as the blond wizard placed a hand on Scabior's shoulder to draw his attention.

"I think perhaps you ought to go back to bed and rest, Scabior. Your fever just broke this morning. And with all the upset and stress you've experienced in the last hour, it could cause you to have a relapse."

"I doubt it," Scabior snorted, scowling at him. "I'm not as fragile as Bellabitch might 'ave you believe." He took another swig of brandy to calm his nerves, draining the bottle of its last ounce of fluid. "Do you 'ave any photos of this Snowden? I need to know wha this bastard looks like."

"Yes, I believe I may still have one somewhere. But why do you need to know what he looks like?" said Lucius, now feeling utterly perplexed by Scabior's question.

"Because I think 'e may 'ave done something to Violet." And with that Scabior explained to Lucius about the nightmares Violet had been having.

A short while later Scabior returned to the room he was sharing with Violet. He carried in his pocket the one remaining photo Lucius could find of Freeman Snowden.

He wanted to show it to Violet in order to confirm whether or not Freeman was the man from her nightmares. But when he returned, he found her sound asleep with a small drinking glass in her hand. A half inch of liquid filled the bottom of the glass which Scabior recognized as dreamless sleep potion.

Violet had fallen asleep before she could consume the entire dose of potion. She was now resting peacefully, sleeping soundly without any worries of the mysterious man invading her dreams.

Scabior sat down on the bed beside her, removing the glass from her hand and placing it on the bedside table.

"Sweet dreams, love," he said softly. "We'll deal with things later after you're fully rested."


	11. The Christmas Card

In the days that followed Scabior continued to recover as his wounds healed and his strength gradually returned. Violet rested, taking her dreamless sleep potion and catching up on her sleep. It wasn't unusual for her to fall asleep wrapped in Scabior's arms as the two of them slept together in bed. His presence alone seemed to have a calming effect on her. He made her happy, made it easier for her to relax.

Violet couldn't hide her feelings for Scabior anymore. He made her feel a type of happiness that she had never known before. He completed her, giving her a sense of blissful joy and peace. She loved him, he was everything to her, and Scabior was growing to love her more with each day that passed.

It was his love for her that made him hesitant to show her the photo he'd obtained from Lucius. He had seen the shape she was in when he found her. He'd watched over her, feared for her health and well being. Now that she was finally recovering, he didn't want to do anything that might cause her to have a relapse.

Scabior sighed as he held the photo of Freeman Snowden, gazing silently at the moving image as it showed Freeman standing beneath a flurry of white snowflakes.

Freeman was smiling, delighting in the beauty of the myriad of soft crystals as they fell from the sky above.

Lucius had described him as a powerful dark wizard with an unusual lust for young female children. Who knew what sort of unspeakable acts he may have forced Violet to preform during the time that he was around her.

'She doesn't remember,' Scabior thought, folding the photo in half and slipping it back into his pocket. 'She's better off not knowing about this right now. Per'aps it would be better if she wasn't reminded of this at all. I don't want to tell 'er about this if I don't 'ave to."

After spending a week at Malfoy manor recovering from his injuries, Scabior decided that he felt well enough to return to the woods. Both he and Violet were well rested and feeling good. The time had come for them to leave.

Before they left, Narcissa was kind enough to give Scabior a bottle of wound cleaning potion, telling him that as long as he used it on any cuts he sustained in battle, it would prevent his wounds from getting infected. Scabior thanked her for the potion, then went to round up his men to make sure they were ready to leave.

While Scabior was checking up on his men, Violet had wandered off through the manor in search of Lucius. There was something she wanted to ask him about in private before she left. And she figured now was the best time do it while Scabior was distracted.

She found Lucius in the living room by himself and approached him with her question.

"Mr. Malfoy," she began.

"Please, call me Lucius," he said, smiling.

"Right, Lucius then..." She hesitated slightly, trying to think of the best way to properly word her question. "I couldn't help but notice that Scabior and Bellatrix don't exactly get along. I was wondering if you could tell me why they don't like each other."

"Ah, now that, I'm afraid, is a private matter that I'm not at liberty to discuss," said Lucius, his smile fading from his face. "Scabior is a man who values his privacy. He doesn't like anyone invading it. If he feels comfortable enough to discuss it with you, then he will. If not...well, best not to bother him too much about it. It's a sensitive subject with him. He'd rather not speak of it if he doesn't have to."

Now Violet was very curious as well as a bit concerned. She knew Bellatrix had hurt Scabior, but she wasn't sure how it had happened or what had happened. She could see the pain in Scabior's eyes when she'd asked him about it before. She knew that something was wrong. But from the look of things she wasn't going to receive answers to her questions anytime soon.

Upon their return to the woods, Violet was quick to recognize the familiarity of the area she was in. They had apparated to the same location they were in before leaving for Malfoy manor.

When Violet asked Scabior why they had returned to the same place they were before, he put his arm around her and said, "Because, my lovely, there is something tha I want to show you."

Scabior had his reasons for returning to their previous location. One of them was the idea that Jacob probably wouldn't think to look for them in the same place they were before. Jacob had most likely gone in search of them elsewhere. They'd be hiding in plain sight, which would help keep Violet safe while Scabior worked to formulate the next phase of his plan.

After Jacob had escaped, Scabior became determined to hunt him down and find him. His pride as a Snatcher would not let him rest until he caught him. And his concern for Violet's safety added to the driving motivation that pushed him forward in search of Jacob.

He would have begun his search earlier, but illness and injury had slowed him down. And all he could think of was protectong Violet at any cost. Even if it meant risking his own health in the process.

He needed to know who Jacob worked for, where he was from, and why he had been ordered into their camp. Scabior could only know these things if he caught him. And with years of experience tracking and hunting, it was only a matter of time before Scabior caught his prey.

He also needed to carefully monitor Violet's condition, making sure she didn't lapse back into her depression and start cutting herself again. The time he'd spent with her had taught him that she was a sensitive, emotionally fragile individual.

He was also beginning to think that perhaps some of her abilities were triggered by emotions, both her own and those of the people arfter her. If Scabior wanted to keep her calm and prevent her troubling visions from returning, he needed to keep her in a relaxed and happy frame of mind.

This meant that she couldn't know about his hunt for Jacob, or about Freeman. Not right now. He needed to protect her from herself, as well as from those who wanted to harm her. And so Scabior took her down a path deep into the forest, bringing her to a special place where they could be alone together. A place where they could be happy, no matter what the rest of the world had planned for them.

"The last time we were 'ere you were too worried about me to realize where you were," said Scabior as they continued walking down the leaf strewn forest trail. When Violet gave him a puzzled look he continued by saying, "We're near the lake, pet. This is where you found me when I was unconscious."

"The lake?"

Scabior nodded. "Yes, sweet'eart. There's a large lake in these woods. An we're only about a mile or so away from it. I've known about it for years. Used to come 'ere a lot back in the days before I became a Snatcher."

They walked for several minutes before the trail widened as the ground began to dip down at an angle. Violet followed Scabior down the path through the woods until the forest opened up. And before them stretched a vast lake that covered thousands of miles of land.

Violet's mouth opened in awe, marveling at the sight of the beautiful, gently rippling waves that lapped at the edge of the lake.

For several long seconds she stood still, the cold winds brushing against the surface of the water, lifting and tugging strands of her dark brown hair as she gazed out across the water. She then sprinted forward, running downhill towards the shoreline, laughing happily with glee as she ran.

Scabior smiled as he chased after her. He had brought her somewhere she could be free from her anguished thoughts and memories. And knowing that he was responsible for the joy she was feeling made his heart soar to heights he'd never dreamed possible.

"Come on, love," he said, laughing playfully as he easily caught up to her. "Let me show you around some of my favorite places 'ere." He then reached out, taking her hand as his fingers intertwined with hers.

This was love. This was what it felt like to truly love someone. He was sure of it now. Scabior loved Violet. And as he held her small, delicate hand, feeling her warm skin against his flesh and the leather that covered part of his gloved hand, he could feel her entire body as it connected to his. He could feel her heart beat in time with his own. This was love, and Scabior had never been happier in his whole life.

Hand in hand they walked together as Scabior took her down the sandy shore. They talked and laughed as they walked along the shore. And for the first time in what felt like forever, their hearts were light as though they hadn't a care in the world. They were both truly happy together.

Scabior wasn't a Snatcher here, working for a corrupt ministry, hunting and kidnapping innocent muggleborns and turning them in for profit. Violet wasn't the troubled daughter of a wealthy pureblood family, whose only purpose in life was to worship the ground Lord Voldemort walked on. Here they could be free, if only for a few hours, from the struggles and suffering of a world at war.

Beyond the trees that encircled the lake nothing else existed. This place was theirs, a paradise they could escape to when they needed to get away from it all.

"It's beautiful here," said Violet.

"Not as beau'iful as you are, love," said Scabior.

Violet stood still, her heart pounding in her chest as he smoothed her hair back with his strong fingers. His touch was enough to ignite in her the deepest passion, stirring up powerful emotions of love and happiness.

He gazed deep into her eyes and softly said, "I know you don't think much of yourself, pet. But you are beau'iful. An I'm grateful for the fact tha you are 'ere with me. I never thought I could feel this way, or tha someone would ever want a drunken thief like me. But 'ere you are, at a time when I believed tha nothing good could ever come my way in life again. An as long as I 'ave you 'ere with me, I know tha there is still something good left in this world. It gives me 'ope. Per'aps there is still a chance for me to live the life I started to before it all went wrong."

Violet wrapped her arms around him, her head against his chest as she held him in a warm, loving embrace. She knew for sure that he loved her, and she would stay with him forever. She never wanted to leave his side.

\--------------

The snow was falling silently towards the ground as Scabior assembled his men along the edge of the campsite. Minute flakes of pure white crystalline powder stuck to Scabior's hair and clothes, lightly speckling the black leather of his jacket and the crimson strands of his hair with tiny flecks of white.

"Alright you lot, listen up," said Scabior as he walked down the line his men had formed in front of their tents. "It's been nearly two weeks since we last snatched anyone an brought them in to the ministry. If we don't bring someone in soon, Umbridge is going to chew my arse out an we'll all get in trouble for not doing our job. So we need to bring in another mudblood as soon as possible."

There was a low, uneasy murmur that drifted quietly amongst his men, and Scabior caught sight of one or two of them casting anxious glances at the person standing next to them.

Of all the men in his group, Scabior noticed that Morvin looked particularly displeased by this news, his curling into a sneer as he glared at Scabior.

"So wha are we goan do 'bout it?" Morvin grumbled.

"You," Scabior said, pausing in front of the scowling Snatcher, "are going to wipe tha sneer off your face before I do it for you."

Morvin hung his head, his lips pressed together in a straight line as his insides quietly seethed with anger and hate.

Scabior held out a small stack of parchment to Ranca. "Ranca, I want you, Jeremy an Morvin to find this person an bring 'er in to the ministry. She's an easy target an isn't worth much gold. But the main thing right now is keeping our arses out of 'ot water. So the sooner we bring someone in the better."

Greyback leaned over Ranca's shoulder, a fiendish grin twisting his savage features as he gazed down at the wanted poster of a young blond woman in Ranca's hand.

"Why can't I go after that one?" he queried. "She looks like a right tender piece of meat to me."

"You are coming with me, Greyback," said Scabior. "You an Silis. I 'ave a special mission for the two of you." He then proceeded to explain his plan to find Jacob O' Riley.

While Ranca lead Jeremy and Morvin in search of their target muggleborn, Scabior was going to track down and locate Jacob with the help of Greyback and Silis.

"An while you are with Ranca," Scabior told Morvin and Jeremy, "you are to follow 'is orders an do as 'e says. No questions asked. If you don't, an if there are any problems, you'll 'ave to answer to me when you get back. Is tha clear?"

Jeremy was quick to nod his head and respond by saying, "Yes, sir!" Morvin, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and gave Scabior an exasperated "you've got to be kidding me" look.

Scabior drew his wand. "Do I make myself clear, Morvin?" he said, pointing his wand directly at the space between Morvin's eyes.

"Yes."

"Yes, wha?" Scabior growled.

Morvin swallowed hard, a single bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. "Yes, sir."

"Tha's better." Scabior lowered his wand but did not return it to the pocket in his jacket. "We'll meet back 'ere in a few days time. If you manage to capture your target before I return, Ranca is to send me 'is patronus with the message tha you 'ave been successful."

Scabior then turned his attention to Ranca and said, "You are to take the mudblood to the ministry at once, after you send me your patronus letting me know tha you caught 'er. We can't wait around, an the sooner we bring 'er in the better."

"Yes, boss," said Ranca. "You can count on me, sir."

"I know I can," Scabior said, smiling as he patted Ranca's shoulder. "Tha's why I'm trusting you with this mission an letting you lead this lot."

"Wha about the girl?" Morvin asked. "Oo's goan be watchin' her while we're away?"

"Violet is no longer my prisoner," Scabior announced to his men. "She is staying with me because she wants to. I 'ave given 'er wand back an placed a second layer of protective wards around our camp. These wards are more powerful, an they will alert me to the presence of anyone trying to enter our camp tha doesn't belong 'ere. Violet will be safe so long as she stays in camp."

"You can't be serious!" Morvin exclaimed. "You're jus' goan t' leave her here when she shoulda been turned over t' the ministry ages ago?"

There was a brilliant flash of purple light and Morvin screamed, leaping into the air as a shower of sparks erupted at his feet.

"The next time I won't miss," Scabior snarled threateningly, his wand once again aimed at Morvin. "You talk to me like tha again an you're dead! Understand?"

Morvin nodded, backing away and standing off to the side behind Jeremy.

\---------------

Taking Violet by the hand, Scabior pulled her close to him, his arm around her back as he held her in his embrace.

"I 'ave to go now, pet," he softly murmured. "You'll be alright whilst I'm gone, won't you, love?"

Violet smiled a little, trying to be brave as she said, "I think so. I'm going to miss you, though."

"I know, sweet'eart." He raised his gloved hand, his fingers tangling in her dark brown hair. He breathed in deep, taking in her scent which smelled faintly of cinnamon and apples.

He wanted her. He needed her. And the thought of being away from her made his body ache with desire. But it was for her that he was doing this. He had to make sure that she was safe. And in order to do that he had to leave her for a while.

"I'll be back soon enough," he said. "You can read my books or listen to the wireless whilst I'm gone. Just stay inside the campgrounds. Alright?"

"I will, Scabior."

"Good." He kissed her gently on the cheek. "Goodbye, love. I'll see you in a couple of days."

As she watched him go it felt like her heart was breaking. She hadn't realized how much she needed him until he was finally gone. And as her hand reached towards the flap of the tent he had just walked out only seconds earlier, Violet felt tears come to her eyes.

How was she going to make it through the next few days without him when she missed him so much already?

Her fingers brushed the thick canvas material of the tent. She meant to call him back but her voice had abandoned her. It was too late anyway, for he had disapparated the moment he left the campsite.

For the next few hours after Scabior left, Violet couldn't turn her thoughts away from him no matter how hard she tried. She listened to the radio without really hearing the music. She flipped through the pages of the books Scabior had left out next to the radio without really reading them.

She finally collapsed onto her back across Scabior's bed where she lay for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, the radio playing softly as a form of background noise to help drown out the thoughts in her head, which were still focused on the Snatcher who was several miles away.

Eventually her thoughts began to drift back to her sister. She wondered where Heather was and if she was alright. She wondered how long it would be before Scabior decided the time had come to help her find her sibling. Maybe she should remind Scabior of his promise to help her find Heather when he got back.

Violet was distracted from her thoughts when she felt a cold chill pass over her. She couldn't believe it was December already. Wasn't it still late summer the last time she looked? How could winter be closing in already?

She sat up and reached for one of the spare blankets Scabior had left folded up on the foot of the bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

The days had passed so quickly. All those long nights, all the hours spent lying on the floor, crying and bleeding from self-inflicted hours that felt like a lifetime of torment with each tick of the clock were gone.

'How did it all pass by so fast?' Violet thought. 'More importantly, how did I survive everything I went through?'

The answer to the second question came easier than the first - Scabior was the answer to the question. It was Scabior who had been there for her, comforting and consoling her. Scabior who had mended her physical wounds, and tried his best to heal her emotional wounds.

The answer to the first question then entered her mind, and once again he was the answer.

She had lost track of time in his presence. Whether it was arguing and fighting with him as she had during the first couple of weeks they were together, or worrying about his health when he was ill, somehow Scabior always managed to keep her distracted. Always managed to keep her mind off her troubles, even if he was the cause of her troubles. Which certainly was the case when they first met.

But now she could see that being snatched was a blessing in disguise, for Scabior was helping her eliminate her troubles. Even if he didn't help her find her sister, her life was better and greatly improved with him around.

This was different from the kind of feelings she felt towards her sister. This kind of love went farther and deeper than anything she had experienced in her life.

Violet got out of bed, the blanket still draped across her shoulders for warmth. She walked around to the foot of the bed where Scabior kept his trunk. She always wondered what he kept in that worn, battered old thing. Usually the trunk was always kept locked. But curiosity (as well as boredum) was getting the better of her, and she couldn't help but want to take a peek inside.

She withdrew her wand from a pocket in her faded grey pants and aimed it at the lock on Scabior's trunk.

"Alohomora."

There was a click and the lock opened.

Violet tucked her wand behind her left ear, then bent down and opened the lid on the trunk.

At first glance there didn't appear to be anything interesting or of great value inside. Violet found a few extra sets of clothes, a spare wand, and a couple more spell books inside the trunk. There were also a few rolls of blank parchment, some quills and a bottle of ink tucked into the corner of the trunk. Nothing out of the ordinary. It made her wonder why Scabior bothered to lock it in the first place.

She dug a little deeper in the trunk, only to uncover several adult magazines hidden beneath the neatly folded clothing. Violet half glanced the pictures of nude females as she flipped through the pages of one of the magazines, noticing briefly that a few of the pages seemed to be stuck together by an unknown substance.

She quickly put the magazines back in the trunk and closed the lid. She was about to lock the trunk when an idea came to her, and she opened the trunk again, taking out a roll of parchment, a quill and some ink.

She tore off a small strip of parchment, folded it in half, opened it, then began to write on the inside of her makeshift card.

"Heather,

I love you and I miss you, sis. I wish I could hear from you again so I know you're safe. That's what I want for Christmas this year - to be able to hear from you again. That would be the best gift in the world, if only I could hear your voice once more.

Merry Christmas, Heather...wherever you are.

Love,  
Violet"

Violet took a moment to look at the words she had written, the fresh midnight blue ink still wet and glistening in the candlelight. She sighed heavily as tears once again began to well up in the corners of her eyes.

She had no idea why she wrote the message to her sister. She only knew that writing it fulfilled a deep need in her for communication with Heather, almost like a sort of emotional release, helping her to cope with the fact that her sister wasn't around.

She wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of the blanket, waited another minute or two for the ink to dry, then closed the card and began drawing on the front cover.

Violet was good at drawing, and in a short while she had drawn a picture of a dog and cat sitting in the snow beneath a Christmas tree, looking up together at the starry sky above. Only this time she couldn't hold back her tears, letting the warm drops silently drip down her cheeks as she finished her drawing and wrote Heather's name on the front of the card.

When the ink had fully dried on what was now a handmade Christmas card, Violet took the card and left Scabior's tent, making her way across the campsite to Ranca's tent. She eased aside the flap at the entrance, looked around, and saw exactly what she was looking for - a tiny brown and white speckled owl perched atop a cot in the corner of the room.

The owl looked up from preening his feathers and uttered a low, questioning hoot as Violet entered the room.

"Hermes," Violet crooned, holding out her hand. "Come here, boy. Mama's got something for you."

Hermes hooted softly and ruffled his feathers. He cocked his head to the side, giving her an appraising look, as if attempting to determine whether or not he should trust her.

"Come on." Violet motioned from the entrance of the tent for him to come closer. "It's okay, baby. Mama's not going to hurt you. Come here, Hermes. Come on."

The owl eventually decided that she meant him no harm and flew across the tent, landing gently on her outstretched arm.

"Good boy," said Violet, speaking softly so she didn't frighten the small bird. She turned and walked outside, the card still held in her left hand. "I want you to take this to my sister Heather Stregheria. Will you do that?"

Hermes hooted and blinked his large eyes at her. Violet took that as a yes. She rolled up the card and tied it to Hermes' leg.

"It probably won't be easy for you to find her," said Violet, scratching the owl gently on top of his head. "I don't even know where she is. Just do the best you can, alright?"

She then watched as the tiny owl spread his little wings and soared off into the sky, the snow now falling steadily from the vast grey heavens above.

She didn't know if Heather would receive the card, or if Hermes would be able to find her. But she had sent it off anyway, hoping with all her heart that the Christmas card would make it to her sister.


	12. Sticks & Stones

As soon as his feet touched the forest floor miles from their campsite, Scabior began his investigation, his mind and senses sharp as he began searching for signs that might lead him to Jacob.

They were in the woods at the scene of the duel between Jacob and Scabior, and it didn't take long for Greyback and Silis to realize just how intense the fight had been.

"Shit, Scabior, it looks like you about wiped out half a mile of forest here," said Greyback, lifting a broken tree limb off the ground and inspecting the damage that had been done to the shattered hunk of wood.

"No worse than you've done on nights when the moon is full," Scabior replied.

Greyback allowed himself a smug smile, taking Scabior's words as a compliment.

Silis bent down to examine the piles of earth and furrows left behind in the ground where Jacob had used his most powerful spell on Scabior.

"What kind of magic does damage like this?" he asked, picking up a handful of loose soil and letting it trickle through his fingers.

"Powerful magic the likes of which I've never seen before," said Scabior, walking towards Silis and standing beside him.

Silis looked up at Scabior. "You've never seen anything like this?" He was surprised that there was a type of magic his boss was unfamiliar with.

"No, I 'aven't. It looks like this bloke 'as mastery over earth element magic. Tha's a rare talent, tha is. An a dangerous one at tha. Best be on your guard in case this bastard comes back while we're 'ere."

Scabior began casting a locating charm, while Silis and Greyback searched for any remaining traces of Jacob's presence in the surrounding area.

"Locundum remora," Scabior muttered, conjuring a faint sphere of white light that hovered an inch or two above the palm of his left hand. "Jacob O' Riley," he said. "Go. Now." And the sphere lifted up into the air, rising several feet above his head.

Scabior watched as the glittering sphere hung in midair, waiting for it to move or change color. The color it changed and the direction it moved would give him a general idea as to where his target had gone. But the ball remained still, floating three feet away from where he stood.

"Jacob O' Riley," Scabior repeated, now wondering if perhaps his enemy had given him a false name.

It wouldn't be the first time this had happened. Scabior often had false names and identities hurled at him when he snatched someone. Jacob could have seen the red band of cloth tied around Scabior's upper left arm and realized that he was dealing with a Snatcher.

One of the most common ways of dealing with a Snatcher was to pretend to be someone else. Of course, lying about who you are didn't always guarantee an escape. If anything it would usually incense Scabior, and earn you a rough beating to get the truth out of you, or a few rounds of the Cruciatus curse.

As Scabior watched, the sphere slowly changed color, turning a dull shade of blue-violet. It began drifting lazily south then towards the east in a gentle, slow moving arch before quickly turning around and returning to its original position in the air above him.

'Something is wrong,' Scabior thought.

The sphere produced by the locating charm turned blue when it found its target, meaning that the person he was searching for was moving slowly. And in this case his target was traveling southeast. But the sphere had also turned purple, which meant that someone unknown to him was traveling with Jacob.

This was bad. Had Jacob left to call in reinforcements? And if so, how many were there? Was his master with him?

Scabior shuddered as a chill unrelated to the cold weather passed down his spine. Something was coming, and he didn't like it one bit.

Two days later, Scabior received the first bit of good news he'd had in a long while when Ranca's patronus swooped down into he forest. Scabior was just about to retire for the evening when the ethereal glow of a silver badger illuminated the starry sky above.

The badger flew gracefully down from the cold night sky, trailing what appeared to be minute flecks of stardust in its wake, each tiny speck of light twinkling like the Milky Way.

As the badger landed beside him, Scabior's tired eyes widened as he became more alert, watching the shimmering badger and eagerly awaiting its message.

"The target has been captured, sir," came Ranca's voice, issuing from the mouth of the spectral creature. "We're about to head out to the ministry in a few minutes. We should be back at camp by dawn."

The badger then evaporated into a drifting haze of grey-blue mist that faded away on the evening winds.

Scabior smiled. There was one less thing he had to worry about. And when he returned to camp, Ranca would be waiting with his share of the gold from their latest catch.

Settling back against the base of an old oak tree, Scabior decided to cast his locating charm one last time before going to sleep. He'd been monitoring Jacob's movements for the last two days, as well as the movements of the unknown person or people accompanying him. And although they were getting closer to their target, Jacob still remained several miles away.

Scabior closed his eyes, concentrating on the image of Jacob in his mind, and whispered, "Locundum remora."

Almost immediately the white ball of light burst from the tip of his wand. But instead of remaining a dim glow as it had before when Scabior told it to locate Jacob, the sphere flared to life, glowing a deep shade of crimson as it shown brightly in the dark.

Scabior stood up, his eyes wide with surprise. He watched as the red sphere shot off through the sky, traveling in an arch and then moving in a straight line back the way Scabior had come as he followed Jacob through the woods.

This could only mean one thing - Jacob was on the move and he was heading directly towards their campsite. The speed and color of the sphere told Scabior that Jacob was moving fast and already nearing his destination.

But why wait until Scabior had left camp? Didn't he want to finish what he'd started with Scabior? Then a frightening thought occurred to him and Scabior's heart began to race.

'Violet!' Scabior thought. ''E must be after 'er!'

Scabior didn't have time to wonder why Jacob would have wanted Violet. All he knew right now was that she was in danger, and he had to return to camp immediately.

"Greyback! Silis!" Scabior shouted, rousing the other Snatchers from their drowsey state of half sleep. "We're 'eading back to camp. Jacob's 'eading tha way an Violet's in danger. Let's move!"

"What?" Silis muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He had already dozed off on the forest floor several minutes ago. "We're leaving?"

Scabior aimed a kick at Silis, the blow connecting with his side, sending up a flurry of dirt and leaves as the toe of his boot briefly raked across the earth.

"I said move, dammit!" Scabior yelled, ignoring Silis' pained cry as the wizard rolled over in the dirt, clutching his bruised side.

Greyback only spared Silis a passing glance as he hurried to join Scabior. Moments later Silis staggered upright and stood beside his leader. The three of them then disapparated, returning to their campsite as quickly as they could.

The three Snatchers reappeared several yards from their camp. Scabior had placed enchantments around the campsite, preventing them from apparating directly into camp. That, along with other protective spells Scabior had cast before leaving, meant that Jacob would not find an easy path into the Snatchers campsite. But if he had others with him - if he had his master with him - Scabior could not be sure that his protective wards would hold against a large group.

"Everyone spread out," Scabior ordered as soon as their feet touched the ground outside his camp. "If you see Jacob, I want 'im brought back to me alive. Same goes for anyone else you see the doesn't belong 'ere. Now go!"

Silis and Greyback didn't need to be told twice. They both drew their wands and took off in different directions.

"Alright you little bastard. Where are you?" Scabior said as he began searching the darkened forest.

Scabior's senses were sharp, his mind alert and fully tuned into his surroundings. He moved noiselessly, fearlessly, through the woods. Most of the trees had lost their leaves this time of year, providing him with more light to see by as he made his way through the forest.

Skeletons of leafless trees cast their shadows on his path, their fallen foliage stirring as Scabior passed, his eyes constantly moving, searching the surrounding area. The air around him was still, the entire forest deathly quiet. Not even a single frog or cricket made a sound. It was as though the forest itself was drawing in on itself, preparing for was about to happen, bracing itself for when the Snatcher found his prey.

Perhaps the forest sensed within its ancient heart that there was trouble coming its way, and that before the sun rose over the misty hilltops, the forest floor would be stained with blood as the stench of death tainted the crisp fall air.

Then he saw it. The shadows shifted, and the silhouette of a man crossed Scabior's path. The figure, standing a mere fifteen feet away, turned, the moonlight illuminating the features of his face.

For a second, the span of a single heartbeat, Scabior and Jacob froze, staring at each other across the cold, shadowy woods. Then Jacob did the dumbest thing he could have done - he ran.

Scabior was pissed. His quarry had escaped him once before, and that was one time too many. This time there would be no escape.

Branches broke as Jacob ran, catching in his hair and scratching his face. His robes caught on one of them, and in his haste to get away the fabric ripped, leaving behind a large piece of the earth colored cloth hanging from the bushes. He chanced a look back over his shoulder as the fabric ripped, and saw Scabior was quickly closing in.

Stumbling as his torn robes parted with the bush, Jacob drew his wand. It was then that a white flare of light flashed in front of him, temporarily blinding him as the light illuminated the dark forest.

Scabior was trying to disarm him. He'd seen the kind of destruction Jacob was capable of, and he didn't want to risk the same thing happening again if Jacob was allowed to use his magic.

Jacob fell back, shielding his eyes from the flash with his hand. Scabior's spell would have been a direct hit, but Jacob tripped over the exposed root of a tree and tumbled over backwards.

Seeing his chance, Scabior put on an extra burst of speed and sprinted forward. He was only a few feet away when Jacob suddenly reached back, raked his fingers through the dirt and dried pine needles behind him, and hurled a handful of soil, pebbles and plant matter into Scabior's face. This brought the Snatcher to a screeching halt as he was blinded by the dirt that had been flung into his eyes.

"You wanna blind someone, try doing it the proper way!" Jacob laughed as he stood and resumed his made dash through the woods.

"Dirty bastard!" Scabior snarled, rubbing and blinking his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision. He then shouted into the cold night air, "You're dead, Jacob! You 'ear me? You're fucking dead!"

\---------------

Violet looked up from the book she was reading when the sound of Scabior's furious scream reached her ears. For a minute she thought she was hearing things, and turned down the volume on the radio so she could listen carefully to the noises outside. She then stood up and walked towards the entrance of the tent.

She pushed aside the tent flap and gazed out into the darkened woodland, listening as the wind blew through the trees, swirling the leaves on the ground into a rising spiral of brown and gold.

"Scabior?" she called out into the night. "Scabior, is that you?"

Somewhere in the distance a twig snapped, its hollow sound echoing faintly as it carried on the wind.

Violet froze, her eyes widening as she continued to stare out into the shadowy woods. Something was out there. Her quickening pulse told her so. But it wasn't Scabior who stood beyond the protective boundary of the campsite.

\--------------

Scabior had resumed chasing Jacob. And even though he was far behind the fleeing wizard, he continued his pursuit, never giving up, his long legs and swift pace helping him catch up to his target in a matter of minutes.

Once Jacob was in his sights, Scabior conjured a long chain, and with a flick of his wrist sent it soaring towards Jacob. He was done playing with this bastard. It was time to end this.

The chain lashed out like a whip, wrapping around Jacob's ankles, causing him to trip and fall down a steep, sloping hillside covered in jagged rocks and jutting boulders.

As the Snatcher watched him tumble and roll down the hill, he couldn't help but think how nice it would be if Jacob were to break his neck or back in the fall. That would certainly take care of things. But despite how pleasing this thought was (and despite the cruel smirk that appeared on his face at the thought), Scabior still wanted Jacob alive. He had plans for him, and death would have to wait a little while longer.

Jacob tumbled over and over, somersaulting head over heels, hitting his head and striking his arms and knees against the cold earth, fallen leaves scattering in all directions as he rolled down the hill. And after what seemed like several minutes, he finally reached the bottom of the hill, his battered and bruised body coming to a hault in a clump of dying weeds and leaf litter.

He was bleeding and aching in more than a dozen places, his head throbbing as a wound on his temple spilled blood down into his eyes.

Jacob looked down at his wand, which he was clutching with both hands against his chest, and a smile spread across his face when he saw that his wand was still intact. He then looked up and saw Scabior making his way down the hill towards him.

His sight swimming, Jacob aimed his wand at Scabior. He didn't know if he would be able to concentrate on the spell he needed to cast. His hand was trembling and his body was wracked with horrible pain.

He swallowed hard, tasting blood in his mouth. "Rotum eorthe rockitis," he said, and quickly jerked his wand upwards, then brought it around in a circle before thrusting it forward at Scabior.

The ground began to tremble as a low rumbling filled the air. Rocks broke free of their earthen vessel and rose into the air. Scabior, who was now halfway through his descent, stopped in the center of the slope. He had only seconds to realize what was happening and cast a shield charm before the stones came hurtling through the air at him.

But it was not enough. The shield only blocked smaller stones and pebbles, causing them to break apart and shatter upon impact with the shield. One of the larger rocks tore through the shied, missing Scabior by a fraction of an inch.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, quickly casting another charm that doubled the strength of the shield.

The rocks were flying faster now, picking up speed as they rained down upon the shimmering blue shield that now stretched from Scabior's head to his feet. One particularly large boulder flew past and struck a tree, snapping it in two.

The earth shook more violently and Scabior cast another charm, his shield now glowing like a sapphire wall of blazing blue flames.

"I'm not finished yet!" Scabior shouted over the thunderous rumble of the ground below, his eyes burning as they reflected the light of his shield. "You 'ave to do better than tha if you want to kill me!"

The earth suddenly heaved itself upwards, causing Scabior to lose his balance and fall. He began sliding down the hill on his arse, his concentration broken and his shield charm dissolving as he fell.

Scabior screamed, his gloved hand reaching out and grabbing hold of a boulder embedded in the hillside. Scrabbling for purchase, he just barely managed to cling to the boulder, the heels of his boots scraping the steep hillside in an attempt to stop his descent.

For a moment he thought he'd be alright. But a mere ten seconds later a rock came flying at him and struck the hand that was holding the boulder. The resounding crack that followed, along with the pain that exploded in his hand, told Scabior that something hand been broken by the impact of the rock. His fingers went limp as he screamed out in agony, and he slid down the leaf strewn hillside.

This time he could not stop himself, and Scabior slid all the way down to the bottom of the hill, the rocks beneath him battering and bruising his legs and backside as he tumbled and rolled down the hill.

When he finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, Scabior's first thought as he lay on his back a couple yards away from Jacob was that every bone in his left hand was broken. He tried to move the fingers on his left hand, and found that even the slightest movement caused him intense pain. He then rolled over in the dirt so that he was facing Jacob.

"You...!" Scabior growled.

Jacob did not respond. The pain in his head had worsened, and he was feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Everything around him was spinning in undulating waves of shadow and light, and he felt fairly certain that he was either going to be sick or lose consciousness.

Scabior seized Jacob by the front of his robes with his one remaining good hand, and was on top of him, pressing him down against the earth. "You're going to pay for wha you did to me!" he hissed through his clenched teeth. "But first, I want answers. An if you know wha's good for you, you will tell me wha I want to know."

\--------------

Back at the campsite, Violet had felt the earthquake as Jacob attacked Scabior, and had returned to the safety of the tent until the ground stopped shaking. She sensed something was wrong, but she didn't know what.

A sudden gust of cold wind blew the tent flap open, carrying with it several flakes of snow. The area outside the tent remained cold, but without a single flake of snow.

\-------------

It didn't take Silis and Greyback long to track down the source of the disturbance. As soon as the earth stopped shaking beneath their feet, both Snatchers ran towards the sloping hill where the earthquake had taken place. And the sight that met their eyes wasn't pleasant.

Scabior had Jacob by the throat, his back against a tree as the Snatcher held him pinned against the trunk with his uninjured hand.

"You filthy piece of shit!" Scabior spat angrily. He raised his right leg and drove his knee into Jacob's stomach with enough force to drive the air out of his lungs. But when he tried to gasp for breath, Scabior's hand tightened around his throat, causing his eyes to buldge from their sockets as he choked and strangled.

Scabior's lip twisted in a cruel sneer as he watched Jacob's lips turning blue. "You picked the wrong wizard to cross paths with, Riley. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to fuck with a Snatcher?" He released Jacob, only to rear back and strike him in the face with his closed fist.

Jacob fell to the ground, gasping for breath as he lay on his side in a crumpled bloody heap. He spied his wand lying on the ground a few feet away. He reached for it, still coughing and gasping, his hand trembling worse than ever. But Scabior put his foot down on it, snapping the wand in two.

Groaning, his chest heaving as he drew breath, Jacob rolled over onto his back, one hand holding his aching belly as he gazed up at the Snatcher standing over him.

"Talk," Scabior snapped.

When all that escaped Jacob's lips was more pained groans, Scabior kicked Jacob in the side.

"I said talk, damn you!" Scabior shouted. He then turned his head and looked up the hill as the sound of Silis and Greyback approaching reached his ears.

"Is this little turd giving you any trouble?" Greyback queried, eyeing the fallen wizard hungrily.

"Not anymore 'e isn't." Scabior aimed his wand at Jacob. "Crucio!"

Jacob's screams cut through the still night air like razors through flesh, bleeding out his tortured cries across the forest. Even Violet was able to hear him from her place within Scabior's tent several miles away.

When Scabior finally lifted the curse from Jacob, Jacob was on the verge of passing out.

"Alright," he croaked feebly, barely clinging to the last ounces of his consciousness as the edges of his vision darkened. "Alright already... I'll talk. Just...let me have a minute, please..."

"Who do you work for?" Scabior asked, though it would be a while before he received an answer.

Silis stepped forward, shining the slendor beam of light from his wand on Jacob so he could see their prisoner better. "Looks like you did a number on this one, boss."

"Just paying 'im back for this," said Scabior, holding up his injured hand which had now begun to swell. "An giving 'im a bit of incentive to talk."

"Lord Snow," Jacob finally managed to say. "I work for a wizard who calls himself Lord Snow, the Frozen Executioner."

Scabior stared down at Jacob, the look of shock clearly evident on the features of his face. Was is possible that Lord Snow was actually Freeman Snowden?

"But I'm not only one," Jacob continued. "There are others. Not many, but there are others like me who also serve Lord Snow."

"Lord Snow?" Greyback said as Scabior continued to stare down at Jacob in stunned silence. "Who the hell is that?"

With his one remaining good hand Scabior eased Greyback aside. "Be quiet," he told the werewolf. Then he asked Jacob, "Is this Lord Snow 'ere with you?"

"Yes," Jacob replied. He coughed and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and down his cheek.

"Why is 'e 'ere?"

"I think you already know the answer to that." Jacob smiled, revealing a wide space where one of his teeth had been knocked out during the fall down the hill. "After all you are living with the object of his obsession, aren't you?"

Scabior swallowed hard. It felt as though his heart had suddenly leapt up and lodged itself in his throat, and was now beating a fast rhythm against his Adam's apple.

Jacob raised one trembling hand off the ground, pointing at Scabior. "We know more about you than you think, Scabior. We've been watching you. We've been watching the girl too. Had our eye on her for a long time."

"Why Violet?" Scabior asked, the voulme of his voice raising in anger. "Why does 'e want 'er?"

"Lord Snow saw what her parents did to her, saw the way they abused and neglected her," Jacob replied, lowering his hand back to the ground. "He knew that she would be lonely and depressed as a result of such treatment, and that she would crave love and affection from anyone who would give it to her, so long as it put an end to her pain and made her feel loved.

"This makes her vulnerable. All Lord Snow would have to do is slip her a few pretty words and she would be his. And once he gets his claws into someone, he never lets go." Jacob chuckled, his faint smile now turning into a wide grin.

"Scabior," Silis asked. "Do you know this Lord Snow?"

Scabior didn't reply. There were too many thoughts and questions now racing through his head. If Freeman wanted Violet so badly, why didn't he just take her when she was a child? Why had he disappeared for several years? Where did he go, and why was he back for her now?

The answer to the last question was obvious. Violet was old enough to bear children now. And Freeman was still determined to have an heir, even if it meant taking a woman by force.

"'Ow many of you are 'ere right now?" Scabior asked.

"Three," said Jacob. "But the only one you need to be concerned about should have arrived at your camp by now. And like I said before, once he gets his claws in someone, he never let's go."

His chuckle became a wicked laugh. "It doesn't matter what happens to me now. I've served my purpose, which was to keep you distracted long enough for my master to strike. And the girl will be long gone by the time you haul your sorry arse back to your campsite!"

Jacob's laughter rose in volume as he threw his head back, practically roaring with insane laughter. That was all Scabior needed to push him over the edge. A brilliant flare of green light filled the forest, and Jacob O' Riley was gone.


	13. First Love

Scabior was still, staring down at Jacob's lifeless body. The echo of his dying laughter was still frozen upon the features of Jacob's face as he lie motionless on the ground.

The shock of everything he had just learned had stunned Scabior into momentary silence, his mind still struggling with a myriad of thoughts, questions, fears and concerns. Finally, his heart managed to dislodge itself from his throat, and plunged back into his chest, bringing with it a rush of powerful emotions that surged upwards into his brain, clearing his mind and focusing his thoughts on the most important thing at this moment in time.

"Violet," he said, turning around and gazing out through the dense, dark forest. His injured hand was throbbing with terrible pain, but he didn't care. "We must return to camp at once."

\-------------

Violet felt a sudden drop in the temperature of the air as a cold gust of wind blew into the tent. The cold went deep, chilling her down to the bone. She backed away from the entrance of the tent, her arms wrapped around her chest as she shivered. Why had it suddenly gotten so cold? Was there a snowstorm on the way? She didn't recall hearing anything about a storm on the radio.

She couldn't help but feel as though something was wrong. She removed her wand from behind her right ear where she'd kept it tucked away while she was reading, and as she drew the heavy canvas aside, she saw what appeared to be a large snow leopard slowly making its way around the campsite, sniffing the ground and the tents as it went.

The snow leopard appeared to have a faint, white aura about its body that was giving off a sensation of cold. The cold energy radiated out around it, and Violet realized that this creature must be the being responsible for the sudden drop in temperature. She could see small, white flakes of snow falling from the sky around the leopard's body. Ice crystals formed beneath the creature's paws as it walked, freezing the ground beneath it with every step it took.

What kind of animal had the power to conjure ice and snow, leaving behind a trail of frozen pawprints in its wake?

Violet watched as the animal continued to prowl around the campsite, leaving behind patches of ice in its wake. The white light around the animal's body faded after a few seconds, and the flakes of snow stopped falling from the sky. The creature seemed to be concentrating on finding something as it nosed its way around camp.

Suddenly the snow leopard's body went rigid, his head held high as he scented the air. Then, the animal did something unexpected - he smiled.

The smile was not a pleasant one. It was a wicked smile, laced with malicious intent. The leopard curled his upper lip in a snarl that revealed his sharp, white fangs, glaring at Scabior's tent as he lowered himself into a crouching position. It was at that moment that Violet felt her heart still in her chest as fear rose up and licked at her insides. Did this animal see her as a potential prey item?

"No, that can't be," she murmured. All the same, the grip on her wand tightened, and she raised her wand so that it was aimed at the large animal. Then, all at once, all hell broke loose within the campsite.

The snow leopard charged at Violet, his fangs and claws bared, snarling as he ran at her. Violet shrieked and fired off a stunning spell at the massive beast. The spell missed, sending up a bright, flaming mass of red sparks as it struck the ground two feet away from its intended target.

Growling, the leopard continued its charge, closing the gap between him and Violet. He was a hairsbreadth from the tent when a flash of purple erupted from the forest and struck the leopard in the side, knocking him over and causing him to roll, over and over, across the cold ground.

Violet looked up and saw Scabior running out from between the trees with Silis and Greyback behind him. She had only a second for her mind to register the return of Scabior before the snow leopard caught itself in mid-roll, its claws digging into the ground as it skidded to a hault, then turned on a dime and ran at Scabior.

What happened next rushed by in such a blur of speed and motion that Violet barely had time to comprehend what she was seeing. Scabior shielded himself from the leopard's claws, but the shield he'd conjured was shattered as the leopard slashed at it with its claws, ripping it apart with one swipe of its massive paws.

The head Snatcher fell back, firing another purple jet of light at the creature, slashing open the animal's left cheek as blood flew in a shower of crimson drops, staining the snow leopard's white coat. But the leopard kept fighting, plunging forward heedless of his wounds that were trailing fluid like scarlet ribbons flowing on the wind.

If it had been anyone else the snow leopard had been fighting, the animal's opponent would have been dead by now. But Scabior's movements were both fluid and swift, dodging and blocking, striking with speed and intensity, matching his opponent's moves with lightning speed.

Finally, the snow leopard rose up on its hind legs, a feat none would have thought possible, threw its head back and roared, its cry sounding like that of a human and an animal merged as one. The sound echoed and carried through the cold night air, splittng the atmosphere and tearing open the clouds above. And as the ashen grey heavens were torn apart by the beast's harsh cries, Scabior backed away, his knees buckling at the ear piercing scream.

A swirling flurry of snow engulfed the snow leopard's body, and within seconds the animal had transformed itself into a human being, a human whose name was Freeman Snowden.

Freeman looked exactly the same as he did in the photo taken over twenty years ago. His skin was pale, and his long, white hair hung in limp curtains around his face. Only this time his cold, blue eyes were no longer shining with joy as they had been when he was standing in the snow in the photograph. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Scabior, and appeared to glow with cold fire, a type of dull, pale blue luminescence.

"You," Freeman hissed, his voice resembling the sound of frozen wind, howling through the deepest crevices of earth's most desolate wastelands. "All of you." He turned his glowing, frosty glare on the other Snatchers. "If you persist in your efforts to keep me from my prize, then you shall all perish."

A strong gust of chilling wind blew across the campsite, and Freeman's body dissolved into a billowing cloud of fog and snow, racing away on the wind and vanishing into the blackness that surrounded the forest.

Scabior was taken aback by the sudden appearance (and disappearance) of Freeman Snowden. He stared open mouthed at the spot where, only seconds earlier, Freeman had stood, spouting threats in his icy tone. Then realization dawned on him, and he remembered why he had rushed home in such a hurry.

"Violet!" Scabior shouted, sprinting towards his tent. The young witch ran out and threw her arms around him.

"Scabior!" she cried, holding him tightly in her embrace. "Oh Merlin, Scabior. What's going on? Who was that?"

"It's alright, pet. Everything is alright now. I'm 'ere, love."

"I'm scared, Scabior. I don't know why but I feel terrified." She paused, trembling as she looked up into his eyes. "That man...There's something about him. He scares me, Scabior, and I don't know why."

Scabior tried to comfort her by placing his arms around her, holding her as he stroked her back. But he winced and pulled away as a sharp stab of pain shot through his left hand.

Violet looked at him with concern as he swore and held his left hand. "Scabior, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, pet," said Scabior, gritting his teeth in pain as he attempted to remove his glove. "Minor injury." He soon found that he couldn't take his glove off because of the swelling in his injured hand, and he was forced to use a cutting hex to slice the black leather glove in half to remove it from his hand.

"Come on, sweet'eart," he said, tucking his glove in his pocket. He'd repair it later with a reparo charm after mending the broken bones in his hand. "I need a minute to heal my injuries."

He took Violet by the arm and lead her back into his tent. But before he could enter his living quarters, Greyback approached him with a question.

"What do you want us to do with the body, Scabior?" Greyback asked, and Scabior didn't miss the hungry look in the werewolf's eyes or the eagerness of his tone.

"Body?" Violet looked horrified, her eyes widening as she glanced over at Scabior.

"Do with it wha'ever you want," Scabior replied. "Eat it. I don't care. As for Silis, tell 'im to stand guard tonight until the others return." And with that Scabior ducked into his tent without another word to his men.

\----------------

Violet watched as Scabior sat down on the edge of his bed and lightly tapped each finger on his left hand with his wand. The fingers that were broken glowed faintly, turning a dull red color, revealing that three of his fingers were broken. He then moved his wand over the back of his hand in a slow X shape, causing two small patches of skin on his hand to glow red, indicating multiple breaks.

"Tha bastard," Scabior muttered under his breath, frowning at the red, glowing patches on his hand. He took a deep breath, and one by one he began to mend his broken bones, the red patches vanishing as each injury was healed.

"Never was much of a 'ealer. But I know enough to take care of myself in most situations," he said. He held up his left hand and flexed his fingers. They were still a bit sore, but at least he had regained the use of his hand.

"Scabior, what happened out there?" asked Violet. "Who was that man I saw?"

Scabior sighed heavily, looking away and gazing at the corner of the tent. He didn't want her involved in this. He didn't want to tell her about what had happened or who it was that had been in their camp. But he was in too deep now. They both were, and there was no easy way out for either of them.

"Sweet'eart," Scabior said slowly, looking back at her as he spoke. "Do you remember tha man you told me about? The man from your dreams with the white 'air?"

There was a long pause.

"Pet?" Scabior cocked his head to the side, looking at her with concern when she didn't answer him right away. "Are you alright?"

Violet swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "I...I don't..." Her eyes were filling up with tears. "Scabior no...please..."

Scabior quickly stood up and embraced her as she began to cry.

Violet didn't know why but she suddenly became overwhelmed by a powerful surge of emotions. All at once she felt tremendous fear and sadness, crushing her like an iron weight. She felt such anxiety and dread, pain and despair, and she didn't know why she was feeling this way.

There was no rational explanation for it. But she couldn't fight or deny what she felt. This all consuming pain and terror engulfed her, and she clung to Scabior as though he were her only hope for rescue from this prison of torment.

"He's back," Violet sobbed, her head against Scabior's chest. "He's come back for me, hasn't he?"

Once again Scabior found it difficult to answer, and he desperately wished that he didn't have to have this conversation with her. So he decided that, for her own protection, he wouldn't tell her everything he knew about Freeman. She would get her information on a need to know basis to keep her from being overwhelmed by everything at once.

"It's alright, pet," Scabior said softly. "You know I won't let anyone 'urt you. All you 'ave to do is take a few precautions an leave the rest to me."

"But he's after me again, isn't he?"

"Don't worry your pretty little 'ead about it, love. I'll take care of things. You're safe with me. I promise."

Violet became silent, her cheeks still wet with warm tears as Scabior held her. She couldn't help the many thoughts and questions that echoed relentlessly in her mind. And the one main thing that stood out in her mind was the fact that she couldn't even remember his name.

"I feel like I know him, but I can't remember his name," she said. "I thought his face looked familiar, but I just can't remember who he is."

"Per'aps it's better this way. The less you remember, then the less you 'ave to worry about."

"Yeah, but I feel like I'm missing something." She wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. "Look at me, Scabior. I feel like a complete idiot, getting myself all worked up when I can't even remember what there is to be upset about. I'm so sorry. I bet I look really stupid right now."

"Now don't say tha. You 'ave nothing to apologize for," Scabior told her, frowning slightly.

He reached up with one hand and took a lock of her hair that had fallen down into her face, tucking it behind her left ear. He then looked her in the eye and said, firmly but in a gentle, quiet tone, "You aren't being stupid. I think 'e cast a charm on you to either erase or modify your memory of 'im. Some'ow you must be unconsciously remembering 'im. But since you can't remember 'im tha well, you don't know 'ow to process all of this an identify the source of your stress. Tha's why you're upset."

Violet thought about what he'd said, and in a way it made sense to her. Though she still couldn't help feeling embarrassed and foolish for going to pieces so easily. She made a mental note to try and get a hold of herself in the future when something like this started to happen again.

Seeing that she had calmed down somewhat, Scabior released her and took a few steps back. "Are you going to be alright now, pet?"

Violet sniffed and rubbed her eyes, nodding silently to him. There was a dull pain beginning in the front of her head, and her sinuses felt conjested. "Yes. I think I'll be okay," she said, sounding somewhat snuffy from the congestion in her sinuses..

Scabior stood still, one hand still on her shoulder. "Look at me, pet."

Slowly she turned, and Scabior ran a hand through her hair, looking at her carefully in the cold silence of the tent. "Tell me the truth," he whispered.

Violet was quiet, fighting back the fresh wave of tears now welling in her eyes.

"Scabior I - " But before she could finish her sentence, his lips crashed down upon hers, claiming her mouth as he kissed her, erasing all her worries and fears with the sweep of his tongue as he entered her mouth. And for the first time in her life, Violet felt her mind let go as a warm surge of heat rose within her chest and lower body.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, the soft moan that escaped her lips begging him for more. But she wanted more than an escape, something more than just a way to forget her troubles. She wanted him. She'd known it for a while now. And his kiss was enough to awaken in her a desire she'd kept in check for far too long now.

"Pet," Scabior gasped, his lips finally parting from hers. He knew exactly what he was doing, using all his knowledge, charm and skill to make her forgot her troubles. But he was not oblivious to the feeling of arousal stirring in his loins. He had to rein in his impulses before they took over his body and drove all thought from his mind.

"Pet, no. We can't," he said softly. "Not 'ere, not now."

"Why not?" Violet asked, grasping the front of his jacket with both hands. "I want you, Scabior. Please, I need you."

His heart was racing as he gazed into her bright green eyes. Those olive green orbs, still shimmering with unshed tears, were now dark with lust as she looked up at him. She pressed her body against his, causing him to moan, his head tilting back as he felt her warm heat against his nether regions.

That was enough to push Scabior over the edge, and within seconds he'd magically sealed the tent so that no one could enter. He also cast a charm that would keep them from being overheard by anyone outside.

Their lips met again as Violet backed against the wall of the tent. Their breathing heavy, they quickly began peeling off each other's clothes.

Scabior ran his fingers through her hair before sliding his hands down the curves of her shoulders. "You are so beau'iful, pet," he said, almost breathless with anticipation.

Violet giggled and laughed as he leaned in to nibble her neck, trailing kisses down her collarbone. His touch delighted her, inflaming her senses as he reached up with both hands to caress her breasts through the soft material of her bra.

"I've seen you in your underwear several times now," he softly whispered, his thick cockney accent becoming heavier the more he became aroused. "But I 'aven't 'ad the pleasure of seeing you fully undressed yet."

His fingers reached for the clasp on the back of her bra, her shirt already abandoned on the floor, and unfastened the clasp, removing her bra and tossing it aside.

Scabior licked his lips and grinned, eyeing her exposed breasts greedily. He took her right breast in his mouth, gently biting and sucking on her nipple, causing her to gasp and groan. He then slipped his hand down the front of her panties, caressing her as he continued sucking on her breast.

His fingers caressed and pressed against her most sensitive area, causing her to arch her hips towards him as she moaned his name. He was purposely building her up into a passionate frenzy. But just as he was about to slip his fingers inside her, he stopped, as realization dawned on him that this might be her first time doing something like this.

"Wait, love," he said, pausing in his actions as he gazed down into her eyes. He hesitated, not knowing how to put this into words. He'd never had to ask a woman this question before, and he wasn't sure how to phrase it in a sensitive manner.

"Pet," he said slowly. "Are you...inexperienced?"

"What?" She blinked her eyes and looked at him in surprise. Perhaps it would be better if he were more blunt and just said it.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked.

"I uh..." Violet felt heat rising in her cheeks, her face blushing a deep shade of red. She swallowed hard and nodded.

His features softened. Scabior had been with so many married women and prostitutes that he couldn't even remember what it was like to be with someone like Violet. He'd have to be gentle with her. This couldn't be the usual rough sex he was used to.

"I will go easy on you," he said, taking her chin in his hand and tilting her face upwards so she was looking at him. "I will try not to 'urt you, sweet'eart."

He laid her down on his bed, then slid her panties down around her ankles before removing them altogether. He stopped, gazing down at her nude form before unbuckling his pants and removing the last of his clothing.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his manhood, perfectly intact, and a decent size too. This was her first time seeing anything like this, and she was not disappointed with what she saw.

He knelt down on the bed, positioning himself at her entrance, and then slowly entered her, filling her completely as her inner walls stretched to accommodate him.

He heard her gasp, and a faint whimper escaped her lips. He lowered his head, kissing her gently on the cheek before whispering softly in her ear, "Ssh, it's alright, love. You'll only feel it for a moment."

He gave her a moment to get used to the feeling of him being inside her. Then gradually he began to thrust into her, giving her more and penetrating deeper each time.

She clung to him, her arms wrapped around him, fingernails scraping against his back as his long hair hung down in his face, his hair damp with perspiration.

Scabior began moving faster, slowly increasing his pace as he felt his orgasm building deep within. It had been a long time since he'd last been with a woman, and it took every ounce of control he had not to pound into her. She would be sore in the morning no matter how careful he was with her, her tight inner walls gripping him with barely a centimeter to spare. But he wanted her to feel more pleasure than pain, so he had to go slowly with her.

Violet could feel the sensation of warmth building and spreading throughout her body. Her breathing heavy and ragged, she spread her legs farther apart, trying to take in every inch of him she could. She could feel him moving deep inside her, in and out again, his breathing just as heavy as hers.

She could feel the sensations of pleasure building, reaching new heights she'd never experienced before, until finally she reached her peak just as he spilled himself inside her.

Breathless, he managed to faintly whisper her name before collapsing on top of her. His heart was racing and his body was spent, but he hadn't felt this good in years. And the best part was that he wasn't with some married woman who was cheating on her husband, or some worn out old prostitute. Scabior was with someone who truly loved him.


	14. Partners In Crime

A lot had changed in the four months since Scabior had snatched Violet. They had fallen in love with each other, and were now sharing the deeply personal and private bliss that is known only to people who've found love.

They were lost in each other, and a new feeling of love and happiness, care and compassion filled them both. Neither of them had ever known such feelings before. They believed that such things didn't exist, not in the cold, cruel and unforgiving world they knew.

'Who would ever love me?' Scabior thought. 'Who would want a Snatcher, after all the people I've 'urt, all the innocent people who've suffered an lost friends an family because of me.'

'Who would want to love me, a pureblood with less magical talent than a squib?' Violet thought.

And in truth they were both outcasts, rejected and forsaken by the world. Everything they'd ever had and loved had been taken from them, and all they had left was each other, and that was enough. It was all they needed. As long as they had each other they were happy.

Despite their happiness together, there were those in Scabior's group that didn't approve of their relationship. And shortly after the battle with Freeman, Morvin renounced his allegiance to Scabior, saying that Scabior's affection for Violet had made him weak.

Scabior wasn't the least bit surprised by Morvin's actions. With the way he'd been acting out and disobeying orders, it was only a matter of time before something pushed him over the edge. And after a brief fight with their leader, Morvin fled the camp before Scabior had a chance to do him any harm.

One of the more pleasant changes that had taken place recently involved Violet's wardrobe and appearance, for not only had she decided to have Scabior streak her hair, she had also begun wearing black eyeliner and dressing in clothing similar to his.

It began in early December when Violet started to talk about Scabior's clothes, and one night by the campfire said that she wanted plaid pants and a jacket like his.

Scabior laughed when she said this. He thought she was joking.

"You're not serious, are you?" he asked, a mingled look of amusement and mild curiosity on his face.

"Of course I am," Violet replied. "I love your clothes and the way you dress. You have a unique style all your own that I like. And I look up to you. I want to be more like you, braver and stronger like you are. Dressing like you can help me do that. It's called sympathetic magic."

"Sympathetic magic?"

"Yes, Scabior. The idea that carrying or wearing a reminder of something imbues its owner with the power of the original."

Scabior blinked and stared at her from across the crackling campfire. After several long seconds had passed he finally broke the silence by saying, "You sure you want to do tha? I'm not exactly the best role model tha someone should try to be like."

"But you're strong and intelligent," Violet persisted. "I want to be more like you. I want more confidence, more strength. I want a reason to believe in myself. If I could be more like you, if some of your courage and cunning could rub off on me, then maybe it would help me feel more motivated to try harder, to make something of myself."

Scabior couldn't help but smile at her words. This young witch truly believed in him. "Alright, pet. But let's just 'ope tha none of my bad 'abits rub off on you. Merlin knows I'm far from being perfect. I'd 'ate for you to pick up on some of my less pleasing traits."

A week later Scabior went out and bought Violet a plaid scarf, a set of black fingerless gloves, three pairs of plaid pants, and a denim jacket. He surprised her with the clothes early one cold December morning by leaving them out for her on his desk. And when she woke up, she found the neatly folded pile of clothing on the desk with Scabior sitting at his desk, smiling at her.

"Good morning, beau'iful," he said. He pointed to the clothes on his desk. "Looks like Santa 'as decided to bring you an early Christmas present."

Violet immediately threw the covers off and leapt out of bed. She ran towards the desk and picked up the red, black and white plaid scarf. "Oh Scabior, it's beautiful! I love it. Thank you so much."

Scabior stood up. He took a step towards her, lowered his head and kissed her full on the lips. "We aren't done yet, my lovely," he softly murmured. He took her by the hand and lead her back to the bed. "Sit," he said, indicating with a wave of his hand that he wanted her to sit on the floor in front of the bed.

She looked slightly puzzled, but sat down on the floor anyway, leaning her back against the bed.

He drew his wand and sat down in the edge of the bed, with Violet sitting on the floor between his legs, facing away from him. "I'm going to streak your 'air like mine. But first I 'ave to ask you if you're alright with this. Because once the spell is cast the color is permanent. It will stay in your 'air an can't be washed out."

"Yes, Scabior. This is what I want. I want a streak in my hair like yours."

"An you want it to be red?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright then."

Scabior held his wand directly over the top of Violet's head. "Reddìa," he muttered softly, and slowly moved the tip of his wand from the center of her head down over the right side of her hair, leaving behind a bright red streak as his wand passed over her dark brown hair.

Violet shivered slightly. It felt like something cold and wet was trickling down the side of her head.

"'Old still, pet," Scabior said. He raised his wand and passed it over the red streak in her hair, casting a second charm that would seal in the color and keep it from fading. "There. All finished."

Violet stood up and walked into the bathroom to examine her new red streak in the mirror over the sink. Seconds later Scabior heard her squeals of delight and she ran out of the bathroom, throwing herself at him with such force that she knocked the Snatcher flat on his back on the mattress.

"I love it, Scabior!" she happily cried, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him. "Thank you so much! It's beautiful. I look just like you now."

Scabior smiled and chuckled as he felt her kiss his cheek. They definitely weren't the same pair they were months ago when they had first met. And for the first time in their lives, they both were truly happy.

"Look at you, " Scabior said, still smiling as he reached up and ran his fingers through the red streak in her hair. "You are beau'iful, love. Though I think I should 'ave made the streak purple instead of red."

"Why?" Violet asked, cocking her head to the side as she gazed down at him.

"Because your name is Violet, therefore I think the streak should 'ave been purple to go with your name."

"But yours isn't purple." Violet lightly stroked his soft crimson strands, gently entwining his long tresses around her fingers. "I like the color purple, but red is my favorite. And besides, I want the streak in my hair to match yours."

"Wha'ever makes you 'appy, love."

"You make me happy, Scabior." Her lips met his as she lay atop him in bed.

Scabior began kissing her more deeply, and Violet's lips parted to allow his tongue entrance into her mouth. He had just slid his hand down her hip and cupped her bottom in his gloved hand when a voice outside the tent called his name.

"Scabior, sir. We've returned from our latest scouting mission and wish to report our findings."

"Dammit!" Scabior hissed from beneath Violet.

Violet turned her head, glancing back at the entrance of the tent. She hadn't expected Ranca to return for another hour or two.

"Sorry, pet," said Scabior, easing her off him as he moved out from underneath her. "Per'aps some other time."

He pushed aside the flap on the tent and walked outside. And sure enough, there was Ranca, standing there in the snow.

"Wha are your findings this time?" Scabior asked, already fearing that their search had turned up with nothing like the last time he'd sent them out.

Ranca sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, sir. There's still no sign of Snowden. It's like he just vanished into then air. No matter how far out we extend the search, there's still no trace of him."

Scabior frowned, his mouth reduced to a thin, angry line as he stared down at the snow covered earth below.

It was frustrating not being able to find someone he was searching for. Normally he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, lived for it in fact, tracking, hunting, chasing people through the forests and over grass covered hilltops. But this time the thrill of it all had abandoned him. This was personal. And Violet's safety remained in jeopardy until Freeman was caught.

"I do have one bit of good news, sir," said Ranca. "We uncovered a good bit of information that may very well lead us to the hideout of one of our prime muggleborn targets."

Scabior's expression brightened as he looked up at him, that familiar glimmer returning to his eyes at the thought of catching another muggleborn. "Is it Nora Roberts?" he queried.

Ranca nodded. "Yes, boss. That's the one. There have been reports of strange goings on at a farm some three hundred miles west of here. A young woman fitting the description of Nora Roberts turned up alone seeking shelter at Dunesbury Farm.

"The muggles there didn't seem to think much of it until one of the boys on the farm was seriously injured in an accident. The child almost died, but it appears as though Nora used her magic to heal him, and she didn't do a very good job keeping it a secret."

"Oh really?" Scabior had begun to smile, his eyes alight with mischief. "I think we ought to pay miss Nora a visit tomorrow. We could snatch 'er an replenish our food supplies at the farm at the same time."

Ranca was rather fond of this idea. While they were able to find and gather food on their own in the forest, it had been a while since they last raided a village for better supplies and food.

"What time do we leave, sir?" asked Ranca.

"We leave at seven," Scabior replied. "I want everyone up an ready to 'ead out by the first light of dawn." He was just about to turn around and return to his tent when the sound of wings rustling overhead caught his attention.

Scabior and Ranca both looked up as a large and regal looking barn own soared down between the trees. The owl landed gracefully atop Scabior's tent, the thick canvas dipping and swaying under the owl's weight. The bird then marched importantly over to Scabior, hooted softly, then stood peering down at him from atop the tent with its overly large, golden eyes.

Ranca noticed that the owl had a roll of parchment attached to its leg. "Are you expecting mail from anyone?" he asked, pointing out the roll of parchment to Scabior.

"No, I'm not." Scabior reached up and untied the length of blue ribbon binding the parchment to the owl's leg. He unrolled the parchment and began reading.

The letter was an invitation from Lucius Malfoy to attend a Christmas party at Malfoy manor on the twenty first of December, the day of the Winter Solstice.

"It's from Lucius," Scabior told Ranca. "'E wants to know if we'll come to 'is annual Christmas party next week."

"Really?" Ranca walked around Scabior and stood behind him, peering down at the invitation over Scabior's shoulder. "Are we going to go?"

Scabior rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he reread the letter. It would be nice to take a break from everything. And there was bound to be alcohol at the party. Scabior could never turn down a chance for free booze, or the chance to party and have a good time.

Just then the tent flap flipped open and Violet walked out into the weak December sunshine. "What've you got there, Scabior?" she asked, looking at the letter from Lucius.

Ranca's mouth fell open as he turned his head and caught sight of the red streak in Violet's hair. He then noticed that the clothes she was wearing resembled the outfit Scabior had on.

Scabior smiled as he saw Violet dressed in her new clothes. "Well, don't you look lovely, pet. An this," he gestured to the letter in his hand, "is an invitation to a Christmas party."

"A party?"

Scabior could hear the excitement in her voice as he watched her trying to read the letter over his shoulder. "Yes, sweet'eart. We've been invited to a party next week."

"Who's it from?" she asked.

"Lucius," Scabior replied.

"Are we gong to go? It sounds like it'll be loads of fun."

"Yes, sweet'eart. We can go."

"Thank you, Scabior!" Violet hugged him, her heart nearly bursting with joy.

Scabior put an arm around her, happy that he could do something nice that pleased her. He then noticed Ranca's wide-eyed expression of surprise as he stared at them.

"Wha the 'ell are you looking at?" Scabior snapped harshly.

"Er... I uh..." Ranca blinked, shut his mouth, then opened it again, unable to speak due to the complete and utter shock at what he was seeing. "N-nothing, sir." He then took a few steps back, turned and headed back to his tent.

"Yeah, tha's wha I thought," said Scabior.

"Scabior, where is the party going to be held?" Violet queried. "It'll be at that big mansion Lucius owns, right?"

"Yes, pet. It'll be at Malfoy manor."

"Do you think that crazy woman with the hair will be there?"

Scabior knew what she meant by "crazy woman with the hair." It was Violet's way of describing Bellatrix's insane personality, as well as her equally insane and wild hair style. And the moment he heard her mention Bellatrix Lestrange, his muscles tensed and he all but crushed the sheet of parchment in his hand.

"Scabior, are you alright?" Violet asked. She could feel him trembling beneath her hands, shaking with suppressed rage and hatred.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he had crushed the invitation in his fist, he reflexes reacting quickly and unconsciously to the mention of Bellatrix. Even though Violet had not said her name, the mere mention of her had been enough to provoke an instant reaction of white knuckled rage and hatred in his heart.

"I'm fine, pet," he said curtly. Scabior turned and walked away from her, not wanting her to see the distressed expression on his face.

He entered his tent, smoothed the piece of parchment with Lucius' invitation out on the surface of his desk, and removed a quill and bottle of ink from his desk drawer.

Violet eased the tent flap aside, standing just inside the entrance of Scabior's tent as she watched him writing a reply on the back of Lucius' invitation.

She remained silent as he wrote, knowing that something was wrong. She was unsure of what to say to him, for she still didn't know what it was about Bellatrix that upset him so badly. She then stepped aside a minute later, as Scabior came forward with Lucius' invitation rolled up in his hand.

He tied the roll of parchment to the barn owl's leg, then watched as the owl flapped his wings and rose into the air, flying away into the trees and out beyound the horizon.

Against his better judgement, and despite the bitter hatred still pulsing violently in his heart, Scabior had decided to go to the Christmas party. He knew there was a good chance that Bellatrix might be there, but he refused to run or hide from her despite everything she had done to him, and everything she had taken from him.

He hated her with every fiber of his being, and he'd be damned if he let her ruin and destroy what he had left, especially now that he had finally discovered love and happiness once again after losing everything and everyone that had ever meant anything to him.

This was his chance to start over, to have some form of happiness to cling to in a world at war. He would face her if he had to, and never again allow her steal the light and love from his life.

\------------------

The raid on Dunesbury farm began early the next morning as Scabior lead the way with Ranca at his side, the rest of the Snatchers following close behind.

Scabior and Ranca went after Nora Roberts and quickly discovered her hiding in the hay loft of the barn. She struggled against them, fighting to resist capture with every ounce of magical strength she had. And in the process of dueling the Snatchers, portions of the barn began to come apart, torn away by the force of explosive curses and hexes.

At one point during the duel, Nora hurled a hex at Scabior which he easily managed to avoid, only to realize a second later that she wasn't aiming at him but at the floor beneath his feet. The floor of the hay loft tore open in a shower of blazing red sparks and a flurry of drifting hay. Scabior was just able to catch himself with one hand as the floor gave way beneath him.

There was a reason why Nora Roberts had such a high price on her head. She was considered powerful and dangerous for a muggleborn, with a great deal of skill in combat. She wasn't an easy target, and it would be difficult for anyone to snatch her.

Ranca looked back as Scabior fell through the hole in the floor, and noticed that the sparks from the explosion had caught one of the hay bales on fire. It wouldn't be long until the entire barn went up like a candle.

"Boss!" Ranca cried out, turning and running back to Scabior.

"Go on!" Scabior shouted, still clinging to the broken floorboards with his gloved hand. "I can take of myself! Go! Don't let 'er get away!"

Ranca hesitated for a second, then turned and ran after Nora as he heard her footsteps retreating behind him, heading for the ladder leading out of the hay loft.

Scabior reached up with his right hand and placed his wand between his teeth, freeing his other hand so he could climb up into the hay loft. He gripped the floor and used his upper body strength to pull himself up onto his feet.

With adrenaline racing in his veins, Scabior gave chase after Nora, the smoke from the burning hay bales now beginning to fill parts of the hay loft with its foul aroma. He climbed down the ladder and onto the ground floor where he saw Ranca engaged in combat with Nora.

Not one to give up without a fight, Nora had managed to wound Ranca with a few well aimed cutting hexes. Ranca's clothes were torn, with a large blood stain spreading down his right pants leg. It was then that Scabior stepped in, and with a single hex he blasted Nora clean off her feet in a blinding flash of light. She soared backwards, striking the wall beside the barn door, the wind knocked out of her lungs as he back collided with the wall.

"Wha did I tell you?" Scabior called out to Ranca as he ran forward to where his victim lay on the floor. "When fighting a strong opponent tha 'as the potential to 'arm you, you're supposed to incapacitate them before they seriously injure you!"

Nora gasped as Scabior yanked her to her feet. He conjured chains that magically wrapped themselves around her wrists as he pinned her hands behind her back.

"I'm sorry, boss," Ranca apologized, limping over to his master. "I forgot...got caught up in the heat of the moment I guess."

Scabior shot him a scathing glance before hauling Nora out the door. "Get 'er wand," he said, gesturing with a nod of his head towards where Nora's wand had landed on the floor amongst a scattering of dry straw and sawdust.

Ranca bent to pink up Nora's wand, his bleeding leg causing him a great deal of pain, and he uttered a low, pained cry as he scooped up the wand and followed his master outside.

Outside on the snow covered lawn, Greyback and Silis had rounded up the family of muggles that had been living in the nearby two story house, and the muggles (which included three small children and an adult male) were now tied up and laying in the snow. Silis had his wand aimed at them while Greyback was drooling over the youngest of the three children.

"Scabior," Greyback growled hungrily, looking from his leader to the small, crying child.

Scabior sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew what the werewolf wanted without Greyback even having to ask. "Fine. But just this once."

A loud snarling filled the air as Greyback fell upon the helpless child, tearing into the boy's face, ripping into his flesh and eating the child alive.

Nora began screaming in horror as she watched the werewolf devouring the little boy. Tears flowed freely down her face as she closed her eyes and turned her head away from the gruesome sight. But Scabior wouldn't let her look away. He grabbed her by the hair at the back of her head, his fingers digging into her scalp. "Do you see tha?" he yelled at her. "Look at it!"

"No...no, please!" she wailed.

"I said look, dammit!" He pulled her by the hair, forcing her to face the monstrosity that was feasting on the small child.

Nora opened her eyes, sobbing as she watched Greyback tearing the child apart with his filthy claws, blood pouring onto the snow and staining it a deep shade of crimson.

"Now if you don't be'ave yourself an straighten your arse up, tha is wha is going to 'appen to you. So shut your mouth an be a good little girl, unless you fancy the thought of being werewolf chow."

Her cries grew louder as she started to collapse onto her knees.

"I thought I told you to shut it," said Scabior, jabbing her in the side with his wand. "You 'ave such a pretty face, pet. I'd 'ate to see it torn off an chewed up like an overripe piece of fruit."

Greyback snorted and laughed. "That's what I like to call an open faced sandwich!"

Nora hicupped and swallowed hard, forcing down her anguished sobs as she looked up at the face of her captor with bright, tear filled eyes.

"Tha's better." Scabior looked back at the house behind the barn. "Where's Jeremy an Violet?" he asked Silis. "The barn is going to be completely engulfed an start spreading in a few minutes."

"I think Violet said she was going out back to look for a chicken coop," Silis replied.

Scabior handed Nora over to Ranca and ran off towards the farm house, calling Violet's name as he went.

Violet found the chicken coop, and was in the process of killing as many chickens as she could to bring them back to camp as food for the Snatchers, while Jeremy was in the pantry of the house the muggles owned, stealing as much food and drink out of the house as he could carry. Neither one of them had noticed the black smoke rising from the barn.

Scabior had reluctantly allowed Violet to accompany him to Dunesbury farm after she had practically begged him to let her come along.

She was beginning to show interest in snatching, saying how she thought it might be fun to run through the forests and across the hillsides, tracking people the way Scabior did. But Scabior was quick to point out that she had no hunting, tracking or dueling skills whatsoever, and therefore could not snatch people for a living the way he did.

"Then let me come with you and snatch something else," Violet persisted. "You're going to a farm, right? I could snatch chickens, turkeys or any other animal they have. I could help. Please, let me come with you, Scabior."

Scabior thought about her request. He was beginning to think this whole sympathetic magic thing was working a little too well for her.

On one hand, he didn't want her out with him while he was snatching people because it wasn't safe. She had no skills or experience in his line of work and could get seriously hurt. But on the other hand giving her a small, simple task could benefit her in some way. It could help boost her confidence and teach her to believe in herself more.

And so Scabior decided to let Violet come with him, so long as she didn't get in the way and left the snatching to him and his men.

When Scabior reached the chicken coop out back, he saw a pile of eight dead chickens lying on the ground outside the coop. There were a few feathers lying scattered atop the snow, but not a single drop of blood in sight. From the looks of it, Violet had used the killing curse on the chickens. This surprised him, as he wasn't expecting her to use something so powerful on a couple of barnyard animals.

Scabior scanned the area but saw no sign of Violet. His heart began to race with anxiety. He knew he shouldn't have let her venture off on her own. He knew he shouldn't have allowed her to come with him.

Calling her name again, Scabior headed for the chicken coop, thinking that maybe she had gone inside for more chickens. He was in such a rush to find her before the fire spread to the nearby buildings that he didn't even see her as he entered the coop. He almost ran right into her as she turned towards the exit, her arms full of eggs.

Violet gasped, coming to an abrupt stop inches from Scabior, a few of her eggs dropping to the floor where they burst open with a dull, wet splat.

"Scabior! Dear Merlin, you startled me! What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you because the barn is on fire, pet," said Scabior. "It's going to start spreading any minute now. So you need to finish your business 'ere an get a move on."

"The barn is on fire?" Violet exclaimed. "How? What happened?"

"We don't 'ave time for questions." Scabior moved behind her, put his hands on her back, and pushed her out the door. "Just go. Grab wha you can an get out."

Violet took her remaining eggs, a couple of chickens, and quickly left the chicken coop. And not a moment too soon. She glanced back over her shoulder as she was leaving, and saw the blazing flames from the barn beginning to lick at the outer walls of the hen house.

Jeremy met up with them a couple yards from the chicken coop. He had with him two large sacks filled with food that he had stolen from the pantry. He was planning on going back for more when he smelled smoke, and decide to flee the house with the food he had already gathered.

"Did I do good, sir?" Jeremy asked, brushing his messy, black hair out of his face as he looked up at Scabior.

"Yes, Jeremy," Scabior replied. He looked over at Violet and said, "You both did well today. But I would advise you, Violet, to be more alert and aware of your surroundings.

"Now, I want you two to take the food back to camp. Silis an I are going to escort miss Nora Roberts to the ministry an collect our pay, while Ranca takes care of the muggles by erasing their memories of us. Is that understood?"

Violet and Jeremy nodded.

"Good. We should all be back at the campsite in a few hours."

\-------------

Later that evening the Snatchers gathered around the campfire for dinner. And on this particular evening, both Silis and Violet worked together to prepare dinner.

Violet made roast chicken with fresh herbs and a lovely potato soup with onions, garlic and thyme, while Silis sliced apples, pears, and plump, juicy grapes, tossing them together for a tasty fruit salad. They also had a loaf of apple bread that Jeremy had swiped from the kitchen of the muggles' house, as well as several jugs of strong apple cider.

Scabior loved the apple cider, and drank an entire jug of it.

"Wow, now tha's the good stuff!" he said, taking another swig of cider right from the jug. The cider stung the back of his throat as he swallowed, burning all the way down to his belly. "Tha'll burn your tonsils out, tha's for sure."

Violet smiled at Scabior as she sat by the fire, tending to the herbed chicken she was cooking. She couldn't help but laugh as Scabior drank more cider then let out a loud belch.

"Oh, sorry about that, pet," he said. But Violet kept right on laughing.

"You're funny," she told him, still laughing happily.

Scabior grinned. He'd never seen a woman who thought his crude lack of manners was funny before. He then turned to his men and said, "Can my woman cook or wha? This is pretty good, isnt it?"

All around the campfire there were nods and murmurs of agreement. Even Greyback gave a grunt of approval as he gnawed on a half cooked chicken leg.

"Tha's right, pet," Scabior said, looking back at Violet. 'You snatched us loads of good food an 'elped prepare this lovely dinner. You did good today. You should be proud of yourself."

Violet's cheeks turned a bright shade of rosey red as she blushed at the compliment. It was then that she began to think that maybe she wasn't useless after all. Maybe she could be good at something. Maybe she really did have a purpose in life.

Violet was happy now. And as long as Scabior was with her, she felt loved. Being with the Snatchers was beginning to feel like home. They were like family to her. She loved it here, and even more importantly she loved Scabior and he loved her.

Yes, this was her home now. This was her family. And Violet never wanted to leave.


	15. Blood On the Dance Floor

It was December 21st, the day of the winter solstice. The time for Lucius' annual Christmas party had arrived. Scabior, Violet and Ranca were eager to attend the party. However, Jeremy and Greyback weren't all that interested.

Jeremy was the youngest and most inexperienced of the Snatchers. He was rather socially awkward and shy, and was somewhat nervous about going to the party. Greyback was simply not a fun loving party goer, and decided to stay behind at camp with Jeremy. Silis stayed behind as well.

Violet was beside Scabior as he walked up the cobblestone pathway leading towards Malfoy manor, with Ranca following close behind. Scabior knew his way around the manor, having visited Lucius several times in the years since they first met. He led the way into the ballroom where the party was being held, all the while listening to Violet's delighted comments on the holiday decorations that adorned the halls.

All throughout the manor there were bright strands of silver and green tinsel, neatly interwoven and strung up near the ceiling. More tinsel covered the banisters, with red ribbons tied to the railings. Glittering fairy lights filled the halls, sparkling in the corners and above doorways. Each light resembled a large, luminescent bubble. And each bubble contained a tiny fairy flittering around inside the glowing sphere.

Violet watched as the delicate orbs shimmered and glowed as they hung suspended in midair. The lights ranged in colors from iridescent blues and greens to pink, purple and red. Each one glowed with a gently pulsating light, becoming dim before growing bright again.

"They're beautiful, Scabior," she said, stopping to look at a cluster of lights that floated above the doorway.

"Yes, they are," Scabior agreed, standing beside her and gazing up at the lights.

As they entered the ballroom, a beautiful sight met Violet's eyes as she noticed a large Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

This magnificent tree was at least ten feet tall, and was decorated with multicolored fairy lights, red bows, strands of white pearls, and real icicles that had been charmed to prevent them from melting. Each branch was lightly dusted with a fine layer of snow, which seemed to glow faintly in the light of the shining, fairy filled orbs.

As she drew closer to the Christmas tree, Violet saw that it was decorated with a variety of round ornaments. Each brightly colored sphere had a different image painted on it in stunningly realistic detail. And each image was moving as though it existed in its own world contained within the miniature globe.

In one of the ornaments a group of penguins was singing Christmas carols in the snow, while another showed a family of snowmen wearing red mittens and red scarves. One of the snowmen looked up at Violet, then smiled and waved at her, causing her to gasp and giggle in delight. She did not hesitate to wave backat rhe snowman, then tired and saw a deer frolicking merrily through a snow covered forest in another Christmas ornament.

While Violet was admiring the decorations on the Christmas tree, Scabior made his way over to the buffet table that ran along the southern wall, and was now helping himself to food and alcoholic beverages.

"Well, if it isn't miss Stregheria."

Violet turned around as a mild, silky smooth voice reached her ears, and saw Lucius Malfoy walking towards her, a glass of wine in his left hand.

"It's been a while since we last me," said Lucius. "How have you been?"

"I'm just fine, mister Malfoy," Violet replied.

Lucius smiled. "Splendid. And how are things with Scabior? I trust they are going well judging by your attire and the streak in your hair."

Violet touched the streak in her hair and grinned. "Yes, mister Malfoy. Things are going good for us. Scabior bought me these clothes and streaked my hair for me."

"Please, call me Lucius."

"I will if you call me Violet."

"Will do miss - er, Violet." Lucius put a hand on Violet's back and turned towards the buffet table where Scabior was indulging in large amounts of alcohol. "Scabior," he called out. "Do you mind if I borrow your girlfriend for a few minutes?"

"Girlfriend?" Scabior echoed, looking up from pouring his second glass of brandy. His expression was that of mingled surprise and amusement.

"You are in a relationship with her, are you not?" Lucius asked.

Violet's face blushed as red as the streak in her hair.

"Yes, I am, Lucius," Scabior replied. "An yes, you may borrow 'er if you want. Just be sure to return 'er by the ten o' clock curfew," he added jokingly.

Lucius chuckled then led Violet out of the ballroom.

Lucius led Violet through a series of hallways until they came to a long hall where portions of the walls were made of large sections of glass. The glass created a series of picture windows that looked out into small, outdoor enclosures which contained grass, a few neatly trimmed bushes and clusters of delicate white flowers.

While the enclosures on the right contained a variety of plant life, the enclosures on the left contained a layer of shredded bark, rocks and logs, and a single tree in the center of the enclosure.

There was no ceiling in these enclosures. They were open to the starry skies above, allowing the moonlight to shine in. And each enclosure had some sort of animal living inside. Violet could see birds nesting in the trees and lizards sleeping on the rocks.

"Do you like it?" Lucius asked. "When I had this place built, I designed it with its own wildlife area, perfect for my wife's love of birdwatching."

"You had this specially made for Narcissa?" Violet said, peering through the glass at an owl that was perched upon the branch of a nearby tree.

The owl blinked at her and ruffled its wings, slowly turning its head to get a better look at her.

Lucius nodded. "Yes, indeed I did. The birds come and go as they wish, but most choose to stay and call it their home. My wife has the house elf put birdseed out for them, then watches the birds as they gather to eat and bathe in the bird bath."

Violet moved closer to the picture window to her left. She looked through the glass at a pair of sleeping chipmunks nestled in a hole in a tree trunk.

"Scabior told me that you borrowed Ranca's owl in order to send a letter to your sister, and that the owl has yet to return to its owner," said Lucius.

"Oh!" Violet blinked and looked up at him in mild surprise. "You know about that?"

"Yes, I do." Lucius was smiling again. "And you needn't worry because I have a solution to the problem." He turned towards the small owl that was still eyeing them with a curious and friendly look in its eyes. "You see that owl in there?'

"Yes."

"He's yours. And when you return to Scabior's campsite, you shall find everything you need to care for him. Consider him a Christmas gift from me and my wife."

"You're giving him to me?" Violet exclaimed happily. "Thank you so much! I've never had my own owl before."

From inside the glass enclosure Violet's new owl hooted cheerfully, hopping from foot to foot on his branch.

Lucius looked somewhat perplexed. "You've never been given an owl before?"

"No, I haven't," she replied. "My mother never spent that much money on me. She and my grandmother were always going out and buying expensive brooms and new sets of furniture every couple of months, then telling me how they supposedly had no money to spend on me or my sister.

"I've always had to borrow someone else's owl whenever I wanted to send a letter to someone. This is the first time I've ever had an owl that actually belongs to me.'

She turned back towards the glass, her palms pressed against the window as she looked at the tiny prancing owl. "He's so cute. I'm going to name him Kirby."

When the two purebloods returned to the ballroom a short while later, Violet excitedly ran over to Scabior, who was now working his way through a large plate of cheese cubes.

"Scabior, Lucius gave me an owl for Christmas," she told him. "Isn't that great? My very own owl."

"Tha's lovely, pet," said Scabior around a mouthful of cheese. He swallowed and put his arm around her. "'Ave you given it a name yet?"

"Yes, I named him Kirby." Violet paused and looked down at the plate of cheese in Scabior's hand. "Are you going to eat all of that?"

"Yes, I am," Scabior replied. "I love cheese. Rich people food is wha I call it, because it costs so much. Normally I can never afford anything like this. But the Malfoys..." He glanced back at the selection of assorted cheeses on the buffet table.

"Can I have some?" Violet asked, now reaching towards Scabior's plate of cheese.

"Sure, pet," he said. "'Elp yourself."

Scabior and Violet then proceeded to eat and drink their way through the many delicious foods and beverage available on the buffet table, with Ranca coming over to join them.

Violet passed on the alcoholic beverages, drinking only warm, spiced apple punch instead. Scabior, on the other hand, drank almost a quart of brandy, along with half a plate of cheese, a small loaf of bread (which he smothered in honey and clotted cream), and two helpings of roast beef with gravy.

After he had filled his belly with enough food and alcohol to keep him satisfied for a while, Scabior took Violet by the hand and led her over to the corner of the room, towards the band that had been playing music throughout the evening.

"Come on, pet," Scabior crooned sweetly. "Let's dance."

"I don't dance very well, Scabior," said Violet, feeling somewhat hesitant to follow him out onto the dance floor. But Scabior was in a very good mood due to all the food and alcohol he'd consumed, and he wasn't about to let her say no.

He gave her hand a gentle tug, pulling her towards the dance floor. "No worries, love," he said, smiling at her as the band began to play another song. "I'll lead. All you 'ave to do is follow me."

Unbeknownst to Scabior and Violet, a dark figure was watching them from across the room. It was Bellatrix Lestrange. She had spied Violet from down the hall near Lucius' bird watching room, and she knew that wherever Violet was, Scabior wasn't far behind. So she followed Violet back to the ballroom, intent upon ambushing the young couple and ruining their pleasant evening.

"Any of you know the song When Daylight Falls?" Scabior asked the members of the band.

The band leader nodded, and moments later the band began to play the song Scabior requested.

"An let me sing this one," Scabior added, and the band leader nodded again in response to his request.

Violet's nervousness began to fade, instantly replaced by curiosity as she made it out onto the center of the dance floor. She had never heard Scabior sing before, and she wondered if he was any good at it.

Scabior held Violet's hands, leading her with smooth, fluid motions as they began to dance. She easily followed his lead as he moved her across the floor, occasionally spinning her around as they went.

"This is my Christmas gift to you, pet," said Scabior. He then began to sing, "Wha 'ave I got? Before an not will cause me pain. I long to be more than I see, not live in vain. When passion burns, our 'opes are turned, an dreams are made. When twilight cross, old feelings lost, and peace will stay."

Violet closed her eyes, letting the sound of Scabior's voice and the movement of the dance sweep her away into an enchanted world of pure bliss suspended in time.

As she let him spin her around, Violet felt as though she could have lived in this moment forever. The sound of Scabior's singing was like the most beautiful music she'd ever heard. She didn't want this moment to end. She wanted to keep on dancing and listening to him sing for the rest of the night. But her happiness was short lived, and before Scabior could even finish his song, they were attacked by Bellatrix.

A scream escaped Violet's lips, her eyes snapping open suddenly as she felt herself flying through the air. Bellatrix had sprung out from behind a curtain and fired a hex at Scabior. The shock caused him to accidently let go of Violet's hand just as he was spinning her across the room, causing her to go crashing into the buffet table, her head and upper body colliding with the punch bowl as the delicate glass shattered beneath her weight.

Bellatrix was now angrily shouting at Scabior, furious because he had managed to dodge her surprise attack. A pained moan from across the room drew her attention away from Scabior and over to where Violet lay bleeding on the floor.

Bellatrix grinned wickedly as she looked back at Scabior. "Oh, look at the poor pwetty widdle thing," she cooed in her mocking baby voice. "Did widdle Scabior fail to pwotect his woved ones again?" She batted her eyelashes innocently at him and pursed her lips, looking very much like a young child asking a question of her parents.

His rage provoked by Bellatrix's taunting remarks, Scabior flew at her, and the two of them began an all out battle right there in the ballroom. The members of the band fled the room as the intensity of the fighting quickly rose to a fever pitch, with Scabior giving it his all, never backing down or faltering in his relentless attack.

Bellatrix's shrill laughter rang out and echoed off the walls. She had succeeded in ruining Scabior's evening, and this delighted her to no end. She then hurled another hex at him, which ricocheted off Scabior's shield charm, struck the chandelier and exploded. Lucius, who had run to Violet's side when he saw her hit the table, was forced to conjure a shield to protect himself and Violet from the myriad of shattered crystal that rained down in them from above.

Scabior turned, glancing back at Violet to make sure she was alright. That was it all took to give Bellatrix the opening that she needed, and she slashed him across the chest with a bright streak of purple light.

Falling back a step, Scabior clutched his chest as his shirt was torn open, his blood spattering the floor and pouring out through his fingers. But the wicked witch wasn't finished with him yet, and she hit him with another hex, this time cutting him deeply across his right cheek.

Bellatrix laughed, watching as his blood dripped onto the floor, forming a puddle around his feet. Scabior staggered backwards, his eyes blazing as he glared at her. He would not be defeated this way. Especially not by her.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he focused his strength into one powerful blow, and struck Bellatrix full on with a massive flare of white light that lifted the demented witch clean off her feet, and slammed her against one of the ballroom windows. The glass broke on impact, sending Bellatrix crashing through the window where she landed on Lucius' neatly manicured lawn.

Both Ranca and Lucius stared, wide eyed and opened mouthed at the shattered window, the heavy velevet curtains billowing on the cold night air. Scabior was also looking out the broken window, watching and waiting to see if Bellatrix would return.

Several long seconds passed in silence. It was clear that Bellatrix wasn't coming back. Lucius looked over at Ranca. "Stay her with her," he said. "I'm going to get Narcissa."

Ranca looked from Scabior to Violet and back, his expression one of confusion and concern. Both his master and Violet were hurt, and he didn't know what to do or who he should try to help first.

"Sir, are you - " he began before Scabior cut him off in mid-sentence.

"I'm fine," Scabior ground out from between his clenched teeth. He winced and made a brief motion with his wand across his chest. Almost at once the blood ceased to flow from his wound, although the cut still looked raw and painful. He then walked over to Violet and knelt down beside her.

"Scabior..." she murmured softly, looking up at him. It hurt too much to move, and there was blood spilling from her open wounds down her neck and back.

Scabior wanted to help her, but she had shards of broken glass embedded in her wounds. He knew some spells to heal small wounds and injuries, but this was beyond his ability to fix.

"Violet," Scabior whispered, holding her hand as his fingers intertwined with hers. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, letting his forehead touch her brow. "I'm so sorry, sweet'eart... This is all my fault."

Narcissa arrived minutes later to find Scabior sitting on the floor with Violet's head in his lap. He was able to carefully remove some of the larger shards of glass from her wounds, and slow the bleeding with one of his healing spells, but he couldn't do anything about the smaller pieces of glass that were deeply embedded in her flesh.

Lucius glanced towards the broken window as his wife went over to help Violet. "Narcissa, aren't you even the slightest bit concerned about your sister?"

"She spent over a decade in Azkaban, Lucius," Narcissa replied, drawing her wand as she knelt down beside Violet. "I think we both know that she is capable of taking care of herself." Then, turning to Scabior, she added, "I'm sorry, Scabior. I apologize for my sister's behavior. She had no right to attack you like that."

"Save it," Scabior said dryly. "I've 'eard it all before, Narcissa."

Narcissa felt awful. She'd been apologizing for her sister's behavior for so long, so many times she'd tried to make it right. But there was no going back after what had happened to him. And now there was a new victim, her sister's violent rampage once more focusing on the one Scabior loved.

It was as though history was repeating itself. And as she gazed at him, she could see the hurt in Scabior's eyes, all the pain and torment he'd felt in the past resurfacing, as he sat with Violet's head cradled in his lap, one hand holding her head as blood slowly trickled through his fingers.

He swallowed hard, a knot of painful emotion tightening in his throat. "'Elp 'er," said Scabior. "Please. I won't lose 'er. I can't."

Narcissa nodded. She then began the slow and painful process of magically removing the shards of glass from Violet's wounds. It was time consuming, for she had to remove each piece of glass one at a time. When she was finished, she healed Violet's wounds, then offered to heal Scabior's wounds as well.

"I don't think tha will be necessary," said Scabior. He looked down as he felt Violet squeeze his hand.

"Let her do it," she said. "Please, Scabior."

Scabior sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, not really looking at or even seeing Narcissa as she began magically healing his wounds. "Would you excuse me?" he said, when she had finished healing him. "I need to be alone for a while."

"What?" Narcissa looked somewhat confused as Scabior pushed past her and headed for the door.

Violet also appeared puzzled by his behavior as she watched Scabior quickly leave the room. "Where is he going?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

Lucius sighed. He looked as though this sort of behavior was all too familiar. "He's upset. Just give him a moment and he'll calm down."

"But why? Why is he upset?"

"I'm sorry, Violet. What happened to Sabior is a private, personal matter, and I will not betray his trust by telling you what went wrong." The look in Lucius' cold, grey eyes was that of weariness mingled with a hint of sadness as he spoke. He looked deeply troubled by something. Whatever it was, he had seen it all before. He knew precisely what was wrong, but couldn't bring himself to explain to Violet what was bothering Scabior.

Violet looked from Lucius to Narcissa, hoping one of them would tell her what was going on. But nither one of them would speak. Even Ranca remained unusually silent. Violet eventually got fed up with the silence and decided to follow Scabior.

As she turned and began to leave, Lucius made to stop her, reaching out to grab her by the arm before she left. But Narcissa stopped him, stepping in front of him and blocking his way before he could reach her.

"Let her go, Lucius. She will eventually find out what happened to him. Perhaps tonight he will finally tell her."

Lucius looked as though it went against his better judgment to let Violet go. But he did not argue with his wife. He simply heaved a worn and weary sigh and said quietly, "Alright then. We'll let her go...see if Scabior decides to tell her the truth."

When Violet finally caught up with Scabior, she found him standing outside in the courtyard. He had repaired the damage done to his torn shirt and scarf, and was now standing alone with his back to her, his body bathed in the subtle glow of the waxing moon.

He was, in his essence and his aspect, beautiful and alone. The way the moonlight fell upon the features of his face, creating subtle shadows in the corners of his eyes and beneath his chin, while at the same time highlighting the pale blue of his eyes, was a truly beautiful sight to behold. The black eyeliner he wore only served to deepen the shadows around his eyes, making the blue within his irises glimmer like minute flecks of sapphire in an ocean of black diamond waves, the shores bordering those waves made up of silver grains of sand.

A cold wind blew across the courtyard, causing the long strands of Scabior's hair to move and dance as the wind playfully tugged at his tangled tresses. The cold and the wind did not bother him, for what really troubled Scabior lay within his memories and his heart. But he did not have to be alone, at least not when it came to the memories that tore at him, ripping open the very fabric of his being, the tragedy that befell him so very long ago. For although he didn't know it, Violet was standing only a few feet behind him.

She was still for several minutes, shivering in the cold as she stood gazing at the lonely figure before her. When she finally came forward she spoke his name, and he turned to face her, his eyes were alight with mingled anger, sorrow and regret.

"Wha're you doing 'ere?" he asked dryly, a hint of irritation present in his tone. He wasn't used to anyone concerning themselves with his problems, and he honestly thought that Violet had followed him simply to stick her nose in his business. It hadn't occurred to him that she might actually be worried about him.

"I came out here because you left so fast I thought something was wrong," she said.

Silence followed her words as Scabior glared at her. When he did not respond, she hesitantly asked, "Is there something wrong?"

Another long pause. Finally Scabior replied with a short and simple, "No."

"Don't lie to me, Scabior. I can tell by looking at you that something isn't right."

"Well, you've got tha right. There is something wrong with me. Everything is wrong with me. I'm no good for you, Violet. Wha 'appened to you tonight was my fault. Tha never would 'ave 'appened if you weren't with me."

"How can you say that? It wasn't your fault that she attacked me."

"Yes, it was. Nothing good ever 'appens to anyone who stays with me for long periods of time. Tha's why I normally don't settle down in long term relationships. I don't want to get close to someone after wha 'appened the last time I loved someone... I don't want to fall in love only to see tha person get 'urt or killed." Scabior paused. He swallowed hard, remained silent for a moment longer, then added, "But you make it very difficult for me to not love you."

There was a long silence, filled only with the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the surrounding hedges and trees. Scabior turned and walked a couple steps away from her, his back once again facing her as he gazed up into the starry skies above. "I thought I could do it," he said. "I thought I could close myself off, prevent myself from ever feelings tha way again. I started drinking until I was too numb to feel anymore. I 'ad more one night stands than there are stars in the sky. An then you came along, an opened my 'eart again."

In the silence that followed, Violet walked towards him. She took hold of his ungloved hand and he turned his head, looking down into her olive green eyes. "Scabior," she said softly. "I will always love you, no matter what happens to me."

"Wha if Bella kills you?" Scabior asked, feeling a painful lump in his throat as he finally voiced the question that had been bothering him since their dance had been interrupted.

"She isn't going to kill me. I trust you to protect me. What happened tonight was just a weird freak accident. I mean honestly, Scabior, how often do you go around flinging women into punch bowls?"

For a second Scabior looked as though he were about to say something, his mouth opening then quickly closing again, as he thought better of telling her what was on his mind.

"What is it?" Violet persisted. "I know there's something you aren't telling me."

"It's alright, love," said Scabior, and for the first time since their dance a small smile appeared on his face. "You're right. I will protect you. I won't let wha 'appened before 'appen again. I won't dwell on the past, because I'm 'ere with you now. We're moving forward together, an tha's all tha really matters, tha we're together an we're moving past our problems."

"What happened before, Scabior?"

Scabior hesitated, looking once more like he was about to speak. But then a better idea entered his mind, and he pulled her close, one hand embracing her and the other behind her head as he kissed her. They remained that way for several seconds, with both of them feeling as though they never wanted to part. When they finally separated, Scabior told her not to worry about what happened because it was over, it was in the past, and there was no need to think on it again.

"Come on, sweet'eart," he said. "Let's go back inside. I could feel you shivering from the cold as I kissed you."

Hand in hand they began to walk back to Malfoy manor, but it wasn't the cold that had made her shiver.


	16. Ambush

Time passed. A blanket of snow covered the forest like icing on a cake. And as the snows of winter settled over the forest and the days became colder, Scabior and Violet grew closer together as each day passed.

It is now late January. Violet, Scabior and the rest of the Snatchers had just finished eating lunch when something unexpected happened.

Silis had just started gathering the dirty dishes when a small owl flew into camp. Heads turned, watching as the bird hooted, flying in circles over the band of Snatchers before finally landing in Violet's lap.

"That's my owl," said Ranca, pointing at the bird. "It's Hermes. He's finally come home."

"An from the look of it 'e's brought something with 'im," said Scabior, looking down at the small roll of parchment tied to Hermes' leg.

Violet stared at the roll of parchment. She knew that it could only be from one person - her sister. But after going so long without hearing so much as a single word or whisper from her younger sibling, seeing this letter now was almost too much to believe.

"Pet?" Scabior's voice entered Violet's ears, but it sounded muffled and distant. "Aren't you going to read your letter?"

Violet reached for the string holding the parchment on Hermes' leg, untied it, and removed the roll of parchment. The letter was in fact from Heather, and it was very short, consisting of no more than a few sentences.

"Violet,

Thank you for the Christmas card. Feel free to keep writing. I like hearing from you every now and then.

Sincerely,

me"

Violet stared down at the letter, which was really more of a short note. Scabior, who was now becoming curious about what was written in the note, leaned over Violet's shoulder and began reading.

"Scabior," she said softly, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

The head Snatcer looked up from reading. "Well, you are going to write to 'er, aren't you?"

"I guess I could," Violet replied halfheartedly. She wasn't sure that writing to her sister was a good idea, not now, not after everything had changed so much in the last couple of months. Heather probably wouldn't be plesased to discover that her sibling was living with Snatchers and receiving gifts from Death Eaters.

"But how do I explain where my owl came from when I write to her?" Violet asked. "How do I tell her about you? I mean no offense, Scabior, but I don't think I should just come right out and tell her that I've fallen in love with the leader of the Snatchers."

"You don't 'ave to tell 'er tha, pet. Just tell 'er you met a man you like, an tha one of 'is friends gave you an owl for Christmas. Simple as tha. You don't need to go into details about us being Snatchers an Death Eaters."

Violet thought about what he'd told her, and decided that it sounded like a good idea. It couldn't hurt to say she had a boyfriend and was making new friends. That certainly seemed harmless enough. And as long as it took Heather to reply, Violet would have plenty of time to come up with a story should her sister decide that she wanted more details about Violet's new friends.

Scabior smiled when he heard Violet say that she would write to her sister. He responded by telling her that he thought it would be good for her to write Heather, because it would be a way for them to start over so things could eventually go back to normal.

'But could things ever really be the way they were before?' Violet thought. She didn't know the answer to that question, and it was something she couldn't bring herself to think about now. She needed to try moving forward with her sister. She didn't need to worry about whether or not they could reclaim what they had lost in the months they'd spent apart. Right now it was about starting over, one step at a time.

Later that evening, Violet sat down at Scabior's desk and wrote her sister a letter. She did what Scabior told her, and wrote in the letter that she had met someone, moved out of their parents house, and was now living with the man she'd fallen in love with.

She paused in her writing, resting the feathered end of the quill against her cheek as she stopped and thought for a minute. Could Heather be living in a similar situation? Had she moved away and found someone she loved as well? It was possible, and maybe she would tell Violet about it once she was done being upset with her.

But this was good. Violet had started thinking positive, pleasant thoughts about her sister, instead of the troubled, depressed thoughts and questions regarding why Heather left.

She dipped her quill into the ink pot and continued writing. She asked in the letter if Heather had moved away from home and if she is safe. She wrote about how her new boyfriend had introduced her to some of his friends, and how one of them had given her an owl for Christmas.

"The owl bringing you this letter is my new owl," she wrote. "His name is Kirby. Isn't he cute?"

Violet couldn't think of much else to say. She didn't want to go into too many details about Scabior, or else Heather might suspect that he's a Snatcher. So she left the letter short, and released Kirby into the night, carrying his first letter to her sister.

\-----------------

As the days passed and the weather started warming up, Scabior decided that a change of scenery was in order to keep Violet from slipping back into depression. Nobody liked being cooped up all winter, and a lack of fresh air and sun could make anyone feel down.

He started taking her on walks along the various trails that wound their way through the forest and surrounded the lake. But Violet and Scabior weren't always alone during their trips out in the woods. There was someone else, a strange woman Violet first noticed standing alone on one of the forest trails.

She was tall, her hair long, wavy and black. She was dressed in an unusual combination of clothing, looking very much like a witch who had no clue what type of clothing muggles usually wear, but was attempting to dress like one anyway. The first time Violet saw her, she was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a long white dress with floral print plastered across it, and a long sleeved black shirt underneath the dress. As if this gaudy look wasn't enough, the tall, thin woman was also wearing a traveling cloak overtop of everything else she had on.

This unusual mix of clothing made her stand out, drawing attention to her as she stood on the trail in the woods, or leaned with her back against a tree, watching Violet and Scabior from a distance as they passed. If she had hoped to disguise herself in muggle clothing she was failing miserably at it.

When she appeared in the woods, she would only stay for a few seconds, always standing several yards away, before vanishing into thin air. She would stay just long enough for Violet and Scabior to catch a glimpse of her. But if they blinked or looked away for a moment, she was gone in an instant.

Violet began to wonder if she was seeing things, because when Scabior tried casting a spell on the spot where the woman had been standing, there was nothing there. It was as if she didn't exist.

Scabior stood still, his wand still drawn, staring at the empty space where the strangely dressed woman had been standing. His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed in deep thought and confusion. He couldn't understand what was happening.

Under normal circumstances, a witch or wizard's magical energy could be tracked if they'd disapparated recently. He had used that technique several times to track muggleborns who thought they could escape by disapparating. It had never failed him before, so he didn't know why it wasn't working now.

Scabior look back at Violet. "I can't pick up a magical signature," he said, frustration and confusion showing clearly on his face. "I don't understand it. We both saw 'er..." His words trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at the place where the woman had been standing.

"Maybe we were seeing a ghost," Violet suggested. But Scabior quickly dismissed this idea.

"No, tha was not a ghost. Trust me, pet. Tha was too solid an life-like to be a spirit of some sort." He then began to search the immediate area, looking for any tracks or signs of the woman's presence.

Scabior searched for footprints, broken twigs and branches, damaged leaves on bushes, anything that might indicate where this woman had come from. But try as he might, Scabior couldn't find any sign of this woman's presence whatsoever. This lead Scabior to the conclusion that the woman had to have been some sort of illusion, possibly one created by dark magic.

He took Violet by the hand and led her back to camp. He decided that it was no longer safe for her to wander outside of camp without someone with her, and told her that unless he or Ranca went with her, she was not allowed to leave camp until he figured out what was going on.

"Are you sure that woman was really an illusion?" Violet asked. "Maybe she was just really good at covering her tracks with magic."

Scabior glared at her. "I am a 'ighly skilled an well trained Snatcher. If there was even the slightest trace of 'er within a 'undred miles of 'ere, I would be the first to know."

"I'm sorry," Violet apologized. "I know that if anyone could find someone it would be you. I was just wondering if you knew for sure that it was an illusion."

"I'm sure of it," Scabior replied, his tone midly irritated from her earlier question. "They 'aven't invented a way to magically cover your tracks tha would get past me. I was made 'ead Snatcher for a reason, pet. An I will find whoever it is tha's out there doing this."

Violet was quiet for several minutes, and Scabior had a feeling he knew what was on her mind.

"Look, pet," he said, his expression softening as he looked over at her. "I know wha you're thinking. You're thinking tha this could possibly be tied in with tha man from your dreams, aren't you?"

"Yes," Violet replied. "Yes, I was thinking that it could be him."

He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was afraid. In an effort to comfort her, Scabior put his arm around her, holding her close as he said, "I don't know if it's 'im, sweet'eart. But I can promise you tha whoever it is, I will find them as soon as possible."

\---------------

The sun had not yet begun to rise over the cold winter horizon, and yet there was a figure moving silently in the pre-dawn twilight, her movements both silent and swift as she made her way through the forest. It had taken her weeks to locate Scabior's campsite. But once she had her mind set on something, she was dead set on seeing it through to the end.

She would not give up. She knew that he would detect her presence the moment she neared their campsite, so she would have to stay hidden, waiting until he could be lured out into the open.

She was hunting Scabior, and this was it. This would be the end.

\----------------

Silis was the first to rise early the next morning, his breath steaming in the crisp February air as he walked outside and began the task of making breakfast. Since he had woken up earlier than usual, he had time to sort through the herbs Violet had gathered for them a few days ago. There were bunches of thyme and flowering rosemary. He decided to use them to make a seasoned, hearty vegetable stew for breakfast, and serve it up with some leftover bread and apple cider from Dunsbury farm.

Scabior woke a short time later, followed by Ranca. Violet and Jeremy were still asleep when a loud bang erupted from outside their tents, jolting them out of bed and sending them running outside to see what was happening.

Once outside, they saw that Fiona was approaching the campsite from the north, her wand drawn and ready to fight. She was no longer attempting to disguise herself, and was now wearing proper witch's clothes.

The noise had been caused when Fiona had fired a hex at the pot Silis was cooking stew in, sending the pot sky high where it then crashed to the ground several feet away. She had done this to get the attention of everyone in the camp, then boldly marched forward, getting as close to the campsite as she could without triggering the protective enchantments.

"I have come to speak with Scabior," Fiona called out.

Scabior came forward, and as soon as he laid eyes on her he knew she was the same person he'd seen lurking around the forest. "Who are you an wha the 'ell are you doing 'ere?" he asked, glaring at the young witch who was invading his campsite.

"My name is Fiona. I come bearing a message from Lord Frost."

"Lord Frost?" Violet murmured. The name sounded familiar to her, but she couldn't remember where she'd heard it before.

"Lord Frost. So tha's wha 'e's calling himself now?" Scabior spat in contempt. "Thinks 'e's the next Dark Lord, does 'e? Well I've got news for 'im. E's nowhere near the Dark Lord's strength. An if 'e thinks tha 'e can defeat the Dark Lord an rule in 'is place, then 'e's a complete idiot."

Fiona aimed her wand at Scabior. "Don't you dare talk about my master like that!" she shouted angrily.

"Don't you talk to me like tha!" Scabior shouted right back, his hand tightening around the handle of his wand. "You will not - "

"Enough!" Fiona screeched, cutting Scabior off in mid-sentence. "Lord Frost demands that you hand over the girl right now, or suffer the wrath of my master!"

"Tell 'im 'e can go fuck 'imself!" Scabior snarled, his pale blue eyes blazing with furious anger. "An while we're on the subject, why can't 'e fuck you? I thought 'is only concern was fathering a child. Are you per'aps 'iding something under tha 'ideous floral dress tha you shouldn't 'ave down there? Or did Lord Frost try to get a 'ard on an 'is icicle melted?"

Fiona was stunned by the vulgarity spewing from Scabior's mouth. She took a step back, her face blushing a bright shade of red. "I...I...I'm unable to have children!" she blurted out, looking very much like she was about to die of embarrassment. "That's why Lord Frost won't sleep with me, because I can't have children."

Her words hit Scabior like a blow to the chest, knocking the wind out of his sails in an instant. He wasn't expecting that sort of response from her.

"I'm too old for him anyway," Fiona continued, the words tumbling out of her as she hurried to change the subject. "He wants someone younger, and Violet is the one he's had his sights set on for a long time."

"Well 'e can't 'ave 'er," said Scabior. "Violet is staying 'ere with me."

Fiona's dark eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "You poor fool. You haven't the faintest idea what horrors Lord Frost will unleash upon you if you refuse to give him what he wants. You think you're strong enough to take on my master? I bet you couldn't even handle me!"

"Wanna bet?" Scabior sneered.

"Yes, I do. You're supposed to be a Snatcher. So try and snatch me." And with that Fiona waved her wand in a wide arch above her head. The next thing Scabior knew, she had created five copies of herself using the same illusion charm that she had used to spy on them on in the woods.

Fiona laughed, as she and her copies sped off into the woods. Scabior paused for a fraction of a second before running after them.

Once they were in the woods, Fiona's copies met up with her and ran beside her through the woods. Her plan was to confuse Scabior enough that he wouldn't know which one was the real Fiona.

The copies zigzagged around her, running this way and that, while Fiona fired off several rounds of hexes at Scabior. He skillfully blocked and dodged her attacks, but then the copies split up and ran in different directions, leaving him standing there, glancing left and right, as he watched their creator disappear into the trees. He didn't know which Fiona was real and which was fake. So he chose to follow the pair of Fionas closet to him in hopes one of them was the real one.

"Damn you!" Scabior cursed, running after the pair as they raced between the trees and slid down a snow covered bank. He fired a hex at them, and both copies dissolved into nothingness as the blazing jet of light shot right through them.

"Dammit!" he swore again, skidding to a hault in the snow. A brief flash of movement caught his eye as another copy raced past several yards away.

Snow kicked out from beneath his feet as Scabior chased after the witch in front of him. He fired another hex at her, missed, fired a second time and watched as yet another copy faded away, vanishing the instant the spell made contact with it.

"Tha's it!" he shouted. "I 'ave 'ad enough!" He then cast the locating charm he used to track the magical signatures of witches and wizards when he was hunting muggleborns. Within a matter of seconds the charm picked up on Fiona's magical energy signature, the white sphere he'd conjured turning bright red and soaring off through the trees. Scabior followed the glowing sphere, knowing that it would lead him to his target. He ran for what felt like several minutes, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Fiona had gotten far ahead of him in the time that he'd wasted chasing her copies.

The Snatcher had her in his sights, the red sphere hovering several feet above her head as she ran. Scabior kept running, waiting until he was within a distance of about seven or eight yards before hurling a stunning spell at her. This time his aim was true, and Fiona was blasted clean off her feet in an explosion of red light.

A triumphant grin on his face, Scabior slowed his pace a bit as he approached the place where Fiona now lay in a crumpled heap in the snow.

"Well, wasn't tha a pleasant little strolll through the woods," said Scabior. He smiled a smile that was both charming and wicked, his eyes shining with malicious intent. It was a darkness he'd never let Violet see, that cruel, cold side of him that could devour someone alive, stripping them of their life without a single thought, then walking away without once looking back.

"I didn't even break a sweat," he said, placing his foot on her chest and pressing down hard, pinning her to the snow covered earth. "Now wha should I do with you? I could kill you, or I could torture you a bit then send you packing with your tail between your legs."

Fiona squirmed and struggled to escape, but the stunning spell had temporarily paralyzed her, making it impossible for her to move a single inch. That combined with the weight of Scabior's foot on her chest was making it difficult to breathe, and every breath she took was a struggle, his weight crushing her chest and lungs.

"Please..." she croaked in a feeble voice. "Please, don't kill me..."

"Wha's this now? Not begging me for mercy, are you, pet? Wha 'appened to all tha confidence you 'ad a few minutes ago?"

Fiona groaned, trying in vain to escape as Scabior ground the heel of his boot into her ribs.

"Lucky for you I enjoyed our leisurely little stroll together," said Scabior. "It kept me entertained, as I've never seen anyone with the ability to make illusionary copies of themselves. So I think I'll choose option two."

Fiona braced herself, knowing what was coming and that there was nothing she could do to stop it. She squeezed her eyes shut, awaiting the torturous waves of pain that were about to come crashing down on her. But they never came. Instead of hearing Scabior utter the incantation for the Cruciatus curse, she heard him gasp, inhaling a sharp, sudden intake of breath, the air catching in his throat as he tried to scream.

Pain unlike anything he felt before flared to life in his right leg just above the knee. For the span of several breaths he was frozen, his body paralyzed by the sudden shock of what had happened. He then felt something warm and wet seeping through his pants leg, and looked down to see the hilt of a silver dagger protruding from his thigh.

Scabior's kohl lined eyes opened wide with horror, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he looked down at his leg. Someone had thrown a dagger at him that was now buried deep in his thigh.

Laughter erupted from the surrounding woods. It was a voice Scabior knew all too well. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, laughing as she watched Scabior collapse onto his knees in the snow, a scream finally managing to escape his lips as his wounded leg made contact with the ground.

Scabior's scream carried on the wind, reaching Violet and the Snatchers back at camp. Fear gripped Violet's insides as she heard the agonized scream rent the air. That was Scabior's voice. Even at a distance she could tell it was him and knew something had gone wrong.

She called his name and started to run into the forest, but Ranca seized her by the arm and held her back.

"No, stay here!" Ranca told her. "It could be a trap to lure you into the woods by yourself."

"But that's Scabior!" Violet cried, trying to free herself from Ranca's grasp. "He's hurt! I have to help him."

"You won't be helping him if you run off and get yourself captured. It could be just what they want, to use Scabior as bait to lure you out. And Scabior is more than capable of taking care of himself. He'll be fine. Trust me on this, Violet."

At that moment Scabior lay gasping and groaning in the cold snow. Bellatrix had stepped out of hiding, a twisted smile of sheer delight on her face. She clearly relished seeing the pained expression of agony mingled with anger and surprise on Scabior's face.

"Well, here we are, Scabior," the deranged witch crooned. "We're back where we started, with you on your knees before me. Better enjoy it, Scabior, because it'll be the last time you ever see me." Bellatrix then turned and vanished on the spot, leaving the injured Snatcher to bleed in the snow.

Behind him, Fiona was beginning to stir. The stunning spell was wearing off, and within a matter of seconds she had disapparated. Scabior was now alone in the woods, injured and bleeding, with no one around to help.

It was over. Scabior knew he had lost. With a pained moan he slid over onto his side. He lay there for several seconds, his ragged breath steaming in the frigid air. He then gripped the handle of the dagger and pulled the blade out of his thigh in one swift movement.

He had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming as the blade was withdrawn from his flesh. But now that the dagger had been removed, Scabior's wound was bleeding worse than ever. He had to return to camp and mend his wound before he bled out in the snow.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Scabior forced himself to his feet, which was no easy task. His injured leg seized up on him as he tried to stand, causing a stabbing pain to shoot down the length of his right leg as he tried bending his knee a bit and pushing himself up on his hands and knees. His vision blurred, and for a minute he didn't know if he was going to be sick or pass out. He finally managed to stand after a minute or two of struggle, then disapparated, hoping to make it back to camp before his consciousness abandoned him completely.

\-------------

The force of his feet slamming onto the ground as he apparated outside of camp nearly rendered him unconscious. His vision darkened. He felt himself start to fall, and suddenly he couldn't tell up from down. The next thing he was aware of were hands, fingers feeling along his leg. It took a while for his vision to come back to him, and when Scabior opened his eyes he saw Ranca, Violet, Silis and Jeremy gathered around him as he lay on his back in the snow

Ranca took out his wand and was attempting to heal the gash in Scabior's thigh, a useful trick Narcissa had taught him during their stay at Malfoy manor when Scabior was ill. But try as he might, Ranca couldn't get the raw raw edges of the wound to knit together.

"It isn't working!"Jeremy cried, clearly beginning to panic as the crimson stain beneath Scabior's body quickly spread across the snow. "Why isn't it working?"

"I don't know, Jeremy!" Ranca snapped in an uncharacteristically harsh tone. "Be quiet so I can concentrate!"

Three times Ranca tried to heal the wound in his master's thigh, but all he did was succeed in slowing the bleeding a little.

Desperate to try anything that might help, Ranca conjured a roll of bandages and wrapped them tightly around Scabior's thigh. He pressed the palms of his hands against the thick layer of bandages, wincing as Scabior screamed from the pressure being applied to his injury.

"I'm sorry, master," Ranca apologized. He couldn't stand to hurt Scabior, but he was only doing the best he could to keep him from bleeding to death.

The flow of blood slowed slightly, but the bandages were becoming soaked, and before long they would be saturated with blood.

"Jeremy, help me!" said Ranca. "Give me your cloak, quickly!"

The young Snatcher pulled off his cloak, tearing it in his haste. He handed it to Ranca, who wrapped it around Scabior's thigh then pressed his hands against the wound. This time the flow of blood slowed significantly until it finally stopped.

Ranca slowly and cautiously lifted his bloodstained hands off Scabior's thigh. He was terrfied that his master might start bleeding again.

Violet crawled closer to Scabior on her hands and knees in the snow. "Scabior?" she said softly. "Scabior, can you hear me?"

Scabior groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. He was only vaguely aware that someone was speaking to him.

"Stay back, Violet," one of the voices next to him said. "Let him breathe. Everyone please, just back off him and give him some air. He might be alright in a minute or two if we let him breathe."

Scabior blinked his eyes, the face of Ranca fading in and out of focus. It had been Ranca's voice he'd heard talking, the young wizard now anxiously running his hand back through his dirty blond hair, a common nervous habit he had.

"What do you suppose happened to him?" asked Silis.

"I don't know," Ranca sighed. "Maybe he'll tell us once he recovers himself a bit. For now I think we'd better get him inside and bundle him up. He's already starting to shiver. He could go into shock from blood loss. We need to make him comfortable and keep him warm. And lying out here in the snow certainly isn't doing him any good."


	17. Delaying the Inevitable

Trying to get Scabior off the ground and into bed turned out to be a struggle, because as soon as the head Snatcher realized that they were trying to move him, he insisted on walking to his tent on his own.

"But you can't!" Ranca exclaimed. He looked horrified by the thought of Scabior attempting to walk in the shape he was in. "I was barely able to stop the bleeding. If you walk, your wound could reopen and start bleeding again."

"Then I'll crawl!" Scabior shouted, with more strength and force than Ranca thought he had in him. Apparently the secret to reviving Scabior when he was half unconscious was to mention helping him in some way.

"Sir, please, you can't," Ranca insisted. "Let me help you. Please, don't move. Just stay still. I'll take care of everything."

"Ranca," Scabior growled. He withdrew his wand from a pocket in his jacket and aimed it at Ranca. "Either you get out of my way right now, or I'm going to blow your fucking 'ead off your shoulders."

Ranca froze, his mouth open in shock as he stared down at his master. Scabior's hand shook visibly as he held his wand, but the dangerous look of anger and determination that burned brightly within his pale blue eyes warned that he was still perfectly capable of cursing anyone who pissed him off.

It was then that Violet came forward and stood between Scabior and Ranca.

"Ranca's right, Scabior," she said. "You shouldn't try walking right now. So I suggest a compromise."

"I'm listening," Scabior drawled in a low, tired tone.

Violet held out her hand. "Let me help you walk."

Scabior gazed silently at her hand while considering her offer. He didn't want to accept her offer, and yet it was a better option than being carried off on a stretcher like some crippled invalid. He was better than that. And yet he knew how foolish it would be for him to try walking when he'd lost so much blood, and the gash in his leg could easily reopen with the slightest strain. It was either accept her offer, crawl across the snow on his belly like a snake, or allow Ranca to conjure a stretcher and carry him off to his tent.

In the end, he decided to accept Violet's offer to help him walk, and together they made it back to his tent without incident.

\----------------

Violet pulled back the covers on the bed, then helped ease the wounded Snatcher down onto the mattress, being careful not to disturb his injured leg.

The minute Scabior's head touched the pillow, he let out a weary sigh as his eyes began to close. He was exhausted, his skin somewhat pale from loss of blood, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Just as Scabior was beginning to doze off, the tent flap was pushed aside and Ranca walked in.

"Sir, what happened? Please, tell me who did this to you."

Scabior opened his eyes, turned his head and gave Ranca a weary glance as he entered the tent. "It was Bella," he breathed tiredly. "She ambushed me an threw a dagger at me while my back was turned."

"Bellatrix?!" Ranca and Violet exclaimed in unison.

"Yes." Scabior nodded weakly. "It was 'er. Tha bitch must 'ave been pissed at me for kicking 'er arse. She probably wanted revenge for wha I did to 'er.

"So what do we do now?" asked Violet. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

Despite being completely exhausted, Scabior managed to shoot her an irritated glance just before closing his eyes again. "I'm not made of glass, Violet," he told her. "I'm not going to break if you drop me."

Ranca turned to Violet. "We need something like essence of dittany. Regular spells don't seem to be working. So perhaps we could try something else to heal him."

"Maybe you didn't cast the spell right," Violet suggested. "Wasn't that your first time using it? You could have made a mistake."

"Yes, that was my first time using that spell..." Ranca had begun to pace anxiously beside Scabior's bed. "But it still should have done something. And since it didn't help, I'm going to send Silis out to get some essence of dittany. I'm sure there's a store in Diagon Alley that sells it. In the meantime, we should let Scabior rest. He should be alright so long as he doesn't start bleeding again."

Scabior slept while Silis was out, and was still asleep when he returned a short while later with a bottle containing essence of dittany.

"Thank you, Silis," said Ranca as Silis handed him the bottle. "This should be exactly what Scabior needs."

Ranca walked back into Scabior's tent where the head Snatcher was sleeping, with Violet sitting beside the bed, watching as Scabior's chest rose and fell with slow, labored breathing.

"Silis brought us the essence of dittany," said Ranca, holding up the small bottle for Violet to see. "A few drops of this and he should be feeling better in no time."

Violet felt her spirits lift upon hearing those words. They had what they needed to make him feel better, and Scabior would be just fine.

She watched as Ranca pulled the blankets back on Scabior's bed and sat down next to him. Carefully, very carefully and slowly, he removed Jeremy's cloak that had been wrapped around Scabior's leg, pausing briefly and looking up at his master as Scabior moaned softly in his sleep.

As Ranca worked to remove the layers of soiled bandages beneath Jeremy's cloak, he noticed that there was a great deal of heat radiating from Scabior's skin near the wound. Ranca felt along Scabior's torso and chest, noticing that he felt warm all over. He then placed the palm of his hand on Scabior's forehead.

"He has a fever," Violet heard Ranca say.

"A fever?" Violet echoed. "But how? He was wounded less than an hour ago. Infection doesn't set in that quickly."

Ranca continued removing the layers of bandages until at last the bloody gash on Scabior's thigh was revealed. The tissues around the wound were inflamed, but even more troubling was the blackish discoloration of the skin surrounding his wound. There were also thick drops of what looked like black ink oozing from the raw edges of the wound.

Ranca leaned forward, closely examining the black patches which resembled dark bruises on Scabior's skin. "What is that?" he mused aloud.

Violet came over to see what Ranca was looking at. The Snatcher pointed out the black, wet ooze that had partially coagulated and clung to the skin around the wound. He then touched the tips of his fingers to black substance, which came away like thick strands of dark mucus.

"I don't think that looks right," said Ranca, wiping the black material off on his shirt sleeve. He uncorked the bottle containing essence of dittany, and carefully poured a few drops onto the wound.

They waited, watching to see if the essence would heal him. Several seconds passed, and nothing happened. Then, just as Ranca was about to try using the essence again to see if a second dose would help, the torn edges of the wound opened ever so slightly, and a thin trickle of the black substance began to ooze down his leg.

Violet's eyes widened as she watched the black fluid slither down his thigh, where it dripped onto the sheets beneath him. "Ranca, what's happening? That's not supposed to happen, is it?"

"No, it's not. I don't understand. This should have healed him."

Trying his best not to panic, Ranca pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the lengthening trails of black fluid, his mind now racing as fast as his heart, which was pounding heavily against his ribs.

'It can't be! It just can't!' he screamed in his mind. 'She couldn't have!'

Scabior came awake with a start, his hand clutching his chest as he cried out in pain before launching into a fit of coughing. He coughed, wheezed and gasped, fighting for breath. It felt like his lungs were on fire, like something was coating the inside of his throat and lungs, clogging his airway and making it difficult to breathe.

Violet slipped and tumbled off the bed with a shriek as Scabior rolled over onto his side, still gasping and choking. He coughed and retched until more of the black fluid that was oozing from his wound dribbled down his chin onto the bedsheets.

Expelling the black fluid from his lungs seemed to bring him some relief. Scabior lay on his side, taking in several deep breaths, his chest on fire with an intense, burning pain, but at least it was easier to breathe. He coughed a few more times, but did not expel any more of the black fluid.

From her place on the floor Violet stared at Scabior, horrorstruck and speechless. His eyes met hers, and she could see the absolute misery etched into the lines and features of his face, his mouth open slightly as he tried to catch his breath, with drops of sweat beading on his fevered brow.

"Violet," Ranca said at length. "I think Scabior's been poisoned."

The events that took place during the next several minutes were lost to Scabior as he began to drift in and out of consciousness. His temperature continued to rise, and his breathing became shallow and labored.

Ranca ordered Silis to go into the woods and use a tracking charm to locate where Scabior was when Bellatrix attacked him, so that he could find the dagger she'd stabbed Scabior with. They needed the dagger in order to identify the type of poison she'd used. Ranca also sent Jeremy to Malfoy manor to get Lucius.

"Lucius isn't a potions master. But he knows enough about potion making that he should be able to identify the posion and brew an antidote," said Ranca.

Violet had moved the chair from the Scabior's desk over to his bed, where she was now dabbing at Scabior's forehead and cheeks with a damp washcloth. The heat was positively baking off him like a furnace. Yet during the brief moments that he was conscious he shivered and complained about how cold he was.

"Why can't we just take him to the hospital?" asked Violet

"We might of have to," said Ranca. He walked to the entrance of the tent, pushed the flap aside and looked out anxiously for any sign of either Silis or Jeremy. Seeing no one around, he turned back to Violet and continued speaking. "Lucius should be able to help. We'll only take Scabior to the hospital as a last resort."

Violet sighed. Beside her Scabior groaned and began to stir, moving his head restlessly on the pillow. She wished that there was something she could do to ease his suffering while they waited for help to arrive. She hated seeing him like this. Then suddenly she had an idea, and she hurried off outside.

"Stay here with him," she told Ranca as she exited the tent. "I think I know of something that might help."

She returned twenty minutes later with a glass containing a deep brown liquid. Ranca looked at her with mild curiosity as she sat down beside Scabior's bed. "What've you got there?" he asked.

"It's an herbal cough suppressant. I made it using the herbs I gathered a few days ago," Violet explained. "It's just a bit of thyme, dried sage and marjoram. It won't cure him, but it should help dry up the excess mucus in his nose and chest, and relieve his coughing."

The idea was simple but effective. Scabior had been choking on the bloody, black fluid that was building in his lungs and throat. His frequent coughing fits had served to expell the thickened mucus, but it would only be a matter of time before the poison flooded his chest and he choked to death on his own blood.

If Violet's potion worked to slow the rate at which the poisoned, bloody mucus seeped out into his lungs, Scabior would be able to hold out longer, finding relief from his symptoms until help arrived.

Violet placed a hand behind Scabior's head. "Scabior, can you hear me?"

The ailing Snatcher's eyelids cracked open. "Violet?" he rasped hoarsely. His throat was sore from coughing so much, and his once beautiful voice had been reduced to a grating whisper.

It nearly broke Violet's heart to hear how dreadful he sounded. One of the things she loved the most about him was the smooth, clear sound of his voice, and his thick cockney accent. Now he could barely speak, and the former beauty had faded from his voice.

"Yes, sweetie, it's me," she said softly. "I want you to drink this. It'll probably taste like crap, but it should help you feel better."

Scabior allowed her to hold the glass to his lips, and drank a few mouthfuls if the foul tasting potion. He then turned his head away from her, his face screwed up in a look of disgust. "Enough!" he rasped. "Tha's 'orrid."

Violet placed the glass on the nightstand, then gently lowered his head back onto his pillow. She waited a few minutes then asked him how he was feeling.

"Like my chest is on fire," he said. "It 'urts to breathe."

"But you aren't coughing. The potion must be working because you usually start coughing whenever you talk."

Scabior managed a small smile despite the amount of pain he was in. "I'm proud of you, pet. I told you to believe in yourself. You can do a lot if you just try - " His sentence was cut short as he started coughing again, but it only lasted a few seconds this time, instead of the several minutes that had made his throat sore.

He was exhausted. The coughing fits, fever, pain and poison circulating in his veins had robbed him of his strength. When his coughing stopped, he closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.

A short while later, Silis returned to the campsite. He had found Bellatrix's dagger, wrapped it in an old piece of cloth, and brought it back with him.

Ranca examined the dagger, being careful not to touch the blade. He could see that, aside from being stained with Scabior's blood, the blade was also coated with what appeared to be a thin, black substance, giving the dagger a dark, glossy sheen.

"This is it," said Ranca. "She must have dipped her dagger in poison befofe she flung it at Scabior."

"Dammit," Silis swore. "I wish Jeremy would hurry up and get back here. What could be taking him so long?"

"I don't know," said Ranca, as he placed the dagger on Scabior's desk. "He should have been back by now."

The words had barely left his mouth when the tent flap was shoved aside and Jeremy ran in.

"Malfoy's gone!" Jeremy cried. "His house elf told me that he and Narcissa left a little while before I got there. When I tried to find out where they'd gone, Yaxley informed me that a new lead on the whereabouts of two members of the Order had just come in. Luciuis and Narcissa were ordered out to deal with the situation."

Ranca opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He shook his head in disbelief. "No..." he finally managed to say. "No, that can't be. Not now."

"And that's not all," Jeremy continued. "Apparently Bellatrix was the one who reported the location of the members of the Order. According to what Yaxley told me, the information she gave them was very precise, as if she'd known their whereabouts and had been tracking them for weeks."

"She probably planned this whole thing!" Silis exclaimed loudly in a fit of rage. "That bitch probably waited to tell everyone now because she knew it would prevent Lucius from helping Scabior!"

On the bed beside them, Scabior shifted in his sleep, turning his head away from the sound of their voices.

"Silis, you're going to wake him up," said Violet. But Silis was furious. He kicked the trunk at the foot of Scabior's bed, still fuming and spewing obscenities.

It wasn't like Silis to loose his temper. He normally had a very mild, calm disposition. It was a sign of how serious the situation was when Silis began to rant and rave. Ranca finally had to take him outside for a few minutes to calm down.

When he returned, the look on Ranca's face was both somber and grim. "Silis has gone off for a walk," he said. "He's very upset right now, and said he needed some time to calm down."

They all knew why Silis had lost control of his temper. No one wanted to admit it, but they all knew that Scabior was dying. Violet's potion had helped to slow the buildup of fluid in his lungs, but it would not hault the process altogether. For that they needed an antidote, and

Lucius was the best hope they had for brewing a successful antidote.

"What do we do now?" asked Jeremy. "Should we try waiting for Lucius to return?"

"Can we wait for Luicus?" Violet asked. "Can he wait for Lucius?"

Silence followed their questions as Ranca pondered the situation. We'll try waiting a little longer," he said at length. "It shouldn't take them long to bring in two members from the Order."


	18. Drifting Away

The minutes that passed crawled by at a snail's pace. It felt as though time had stopped completely, that Violet and Scabior had both been suspended in time, isolated and trapped, each of them lost in their own private Hell.

For Violet, it felt as though her world was crumbling under her feet. The towers and buildings, the life that she and Scabior had built together, everything was falling apart, brick by brick and piece by piece. It was as though a crack was opening in the ground below, growing wider with each labored breath Scabior took and every beat of his dying heart. Any minute now the crack would open wide, pulling Violet down into eternal darkness, swallowing her and imprisoning her in sheer blank nothingness, left to wallow in sorrow and grief for all eternity.

There was nothing without Scabior. She couldn't lose him. He was her world, her hope, her strength, her everything. Without him she would be lost, her soul shattered and her heart forever broken.

For Scabior, his very existence was truly nothing less than a tormented version of Hell. His body burned with blazing heat, his every breath was like dragon fire, burning him from the inside out. The searing pain and heat felt as though it would melt the flesh from his bones, which would at least bring him relief from his agony if he were dead.

But Scabior hung on, fighting the poison, clinging to life with every last ounce of strength he had. Inside he was screaming, the pain that tortured him was tearing him apart, while flames licked at his insides, threatening to devour him whole, consuming every inch of his body until only ashes remained.

He struggled to hang on, fighting a desperate battle to survive. Scabior had never been one to simply lie down and give up. He was a fighter, a warrior, and as long as there was still a single shred of life left in him, he would continue the battle until his last dying breath was spent.

Silis, Ranca and Jeremy didn't know what Scabior and Violet were feeling right now. They were onlookers, spectators in a twisted game of life or death. All they could do was watch, observing each tear that silently fell from Violet's olive green eyes, listening as Scabior's breathing broke and hitched at irregular intervals. All they could do was watch, and try their best to comfort Violet while she tried to make Scabior as comfortable as she could.

Violet drew her wand and cast a charm on Scabior to check his temperature. Much to her dismay, she found it had risen to 103°. She needed a way to lower his temperature before it rose any higher. So she went outside, scooped up a handful or two of snow into a clean scrap of material torn from Jeremy's cloak, tied the material so that it formed a neat little bundle of snow, then came inside and placed the bag of snow on Scabior's forehead.

While Violet worked to try and lower Scabior's temperature, Ranca had drawn back the blankets on the bed and was checking the wound on Scabior's leg. He saw that the odd black substance was still seeping out in slow, small drops, and that the flesh around the wound was now swollen and turning black.

Worried by what he saw, Ranca used a cutting hex to carefully cut away and remove the right leg of Scabior's plaid pants to see if the black discoloration had spread beneath the fabric of his clothes.

Unfortunately, the discoloration had spread down past Scabior's right knee and was also moving upwards towards his hip. Thin, black lines snakes out across his leg, each one pulsing faintly with dark energy in tune to the rhythm of his heart. It was as though every vein and artery in his leg was now visible through his skin, marking the poison's destructive path as it slowly spread throughout his body.

Violet looked down at the black lines on Scabior's let and blanched visibly, her heart plummeting into the pit of her stomach. "Ranca, what're those lines on his leg?"

"I think it's the poison spreading through his bloodstream," said Ranca. "I'm not sure how this type of poison works, but if I had to guess, I'd say we have until those lines reach his heart to find an antidote. When they reach his heart, the poison will probably start to rapidly circulate through his bloodstream and kill him."

Violet's eyes began to fill with tears as she stared at the ghastly, pulsating darkess flowing through Scabior's veins. She couldn't take it anymore, and covered her face with her hands as she started crying. Beside her, Scabior shifted slightly and groaned, then she heard him say a single word.

"Malchior."

Violet sniffed. She lowered her hands and looked down at Scabior.

"Malchior..." he moaned in his sleep.

"What's he saying?" Violet asked. "It sounds like he's saying Malchior."

The bag of ice slipped off Scabior's forehead and onto the mattress as he moved restlessly in his sleep.

Rolling over onto his side, Scabior gripped a handful of the bedsheets tightly in his fist. "Bellatrix, you stop this," he rasped out harshly. "Take me instead! Don't kill him!" His voice cracked and he started coughing. Violet rubbed and patted his back as he coughed and retched, coughing up more thick, blackened phlegm.

"Give me your handkerchief," Violet said to Ranca.

Ranca quickly handed her his handkerchief, and she wiped the black ooze off Scabior's chin and lips.

The ailing Snatcher gasped, drawing in a deep, wheezing breath, and Violet heard him whisper the word "Malchior" one final time before his body went limp as he lost consciousness.

"No," Violet murmured sadly. "Not again." She eased him onto his back, replacing the packet of snow that had slipped off his forehead.

Sighing heavily, a lead weight of hopelessness and anxiety burdening her heart, she looked over at Ranca and asked, "Who or what is Malchior?"

Ranca looked mildly surprised that she would ask that question. "Scabior never told you about Malchior?"

Violet shook her head. "No, he didn't."

"Well..." Ranca paused momentarily, wondering whether or not he should tell her what he knew. "Scabior didn't say I could tell anyone this, but then again he didn't say I couldn't tell anyone. So I guess it would be alright for me to tell you about Malchior.

"Malchior is Scabior's little brother. He died when Scabior was a teenager. He was murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange."

Violet gasped. "She killed him?! But why?"

"I don't know. Scabior never told me all the details. But I think we both know that Bellatrix is completely mad. She doesn't need a reason to kill someone. She thinks nothing of torturing and killing people if they so much as look at her funny. But she killed Scabior's brother, and from what I remember the loss left him devastated..." His words trailed off as he looked down at his master.

He knew the kind of lonely, miserable life Scabior led for the past twenty years. He'd practically grown up alongside Scabior, and had seen how the painful events he'd suffered through had effected him, driving him to drink and hardening his heart.

However there were things that not even Scabior's best friend knew about. Secrets he kept to himself. It was these secrets, along with the emotions and memories attached to them, that haunted him worst of all. Lucius Malfoy, who was also close friends with Scabior, knew these secrets. But only because he happened to be there at the time the events took place, and helped Scabior out of a very difficult situation when things were at their worst, when drinking and depression consumed his every waking moment until his very existence became a struggle from one day to the next.

One thing that Ranca did know was that, for the first time in over two decades, Scabior was finally happy again. Meeting Violet had brought back elements to his life that had been absent for far to long, restoring the love and joy that had been lost long ago. Knowing this made Ranca even more determined to prevent Scabior from dying from this cruel poison that had invaded his body, for he felt that Scabior had risen too far from the ashes to fall now. He couldn't lose all that he had gained. He couldn't die now that the pieces of his life and his heart were finally being healed and brought together again.

Ranca glanced down at the watch on his wrist. It had now been just over an hour since Bellatrix had poisoned Scabior. How long would it take before his master succumbed to the poison and died? How long until Lucius arrived? He didn't have the answers to those questions. And to be honest, he wasn't sure if Scabior would make it if they tried to take him to the hospital. Scabior couldn't apperate there, and using a portkey was another means of magical transportation that was out of the question so long as he remained unconscious. Even if he was conscious, the stress and strain on his body from traveling in such a manner could kill him. The only option that remained was to wait for Lucius, and hope that he could make it until then.

Ranca wrapped the bandages around Scabior's leg and covered him with his blanket. A sad and solemn expression on his face, Ranca left the tent to see if he could contact Lucius by sending him his patronus.

After Ranca had gone out, Violet was left alone with Scabior. Her thoughts began to drift back to what Ranca had said about Scabior having a younger brother. That's when an idea came to her.

She remembered when Scabior had told her he was proud of her, and that she could do a lot if she tried. This made her remember her ability to have visions of someone's past by reading their emotions to unlock fragments of their memories. It was a useful ability, but could she learn how to control it and use it at will?

Feeling a new sense of confidence in herself, she slowly reached out and placed her hand on Scabior's shoulder. She took a deep breath and focused on the words she'd heard him speak a few minutes ago. She remembered how those words were wrought with emotion, and she focused on those emotions, while mentally willing the thoughts and memories attached to them to come to her and enter her mind.

There was a flash of dazzling white light in her mind's eye, and then there he was. Scabior, looking like he was only fourteen years old, sprinting across an open field under a bright, blue sky. He was wearing a pair of black plaid pants, his hair slightly shorter but still sporting a brilliant red streak down the side. He was smiling, laughing as he ran across the grassy hillside. He jumped over a small stream in one swift, graceful motion, and headed for the forest.

He ducked behind a tree, pausing to catch his breath, a wide grin still plastered on his handsome young face. He raised a hand and wiped the sweat off his brow, then chanced a look back behind him. Seeing no one there, Scabior leaned his back against the tree and chuckled. He knew he would come. He just needed to give him time to catch up.

He counted to ten in his mind, and when he reached the last number he could hear footsteps approaching behind him. He stepped out from behind the tree, took two steps forward, and was suddenly tackled from behind by a small, blond blur that came flying out of the woods.

Scabior fell onto his belly in the dirt, a small boy about five years younger than him perched atop his back, pinning him to the ground. The boy had medium length blond hair, with a dark green streak down the left side of his hair. His eyes were deep chocolate brown, and he was wearing a pink plaid scarf.

"I gotcha!" the boy said, laughing happily. "You're mine now, Scabior!"

Scabior laughed right along with the boy. He had let the child catch him, but the child either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Malchior!" Scabior cried out suddenly when the boy started tickling him. "Stop! No tickling!" He rolled over onto his back in the grass, causing Malchior to topple off him onto the ground.

"I still gotcha!" Malchior cried. "I snatched you."

"Yes, yes you did," Scabior agreed. He lay still, breathing deeply and holding his sides that still ached from laughing so hard. When the pain began to fade, he reached over with one hand and playfully ruffled Malchior's hair. "Well done, Malchior. You did a good job today."

Malchior smiled and crawled over to his brother. He laid down beside him, snuggling up close to the older wizard. "I snatched you, so now you 'avta stay 'ere wiv me."

"I wish I could," said Scabior. "But the summer 'olidays won't last forever. I'm still going back to school in a few weeks."

"No," Malchior pouted. "I don't want you to leave me. I miss you so much when you're gone."

Scabior sat up and pulled his brother onto his lap. Looking Malchior in the eye he told him, "Then let's make the most of every moment we 'ave together. We'll make this the best summer ever. Alright, Malchior?"

Malchior wrapped his arms around his big brother, hugging him tightly. "Alright."

Scabior smiled.

"Scabior?" Malchior said, his head nestled against his brother's chest.

"Yes?"

"I love you, Scabior."

"I love you too, Malchior."

The brief glimpse into Scabior's memories only lasted a minute or two, but it was enough for Violet to see a side of him she'd never seen before. He was younger, happier. It was as though he hadn't a care in the world.

This untroubled side of him was new to her. The Scabior she knew was often laid back and playful when he was alone with her. But you could see it in his eyes and in the worn lines on his face that he'd experienced more than his fair share of troubles in his life. She could only hope that this latest bought of misfortune wasn't the one that finally ended it for him.

The next time Scabior regained consciousness, Violet, Jeremy and Ranca saw that his condition had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Instead of coughing up blackened phlegm, he had now progressed to vomiting a combination of blood and posion. He was constantly shivering, and the black substance he expelled from his lungs and stomach had taken on a consistency similar to tar.

His senses dazed, Scabior was barely aware of himself or his surroundings. He could hardly speak or move, his throat was bleeding and sore, and his strength was failing rapidly as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was delirious from the poison circulating in his blood, and his temperature was still rising.

Worried that he might start going into convulsions from his high fever, Violet turned and was about to go out for more snow when she heard the sound of footsteps outside the tent. She paused, thinking maybe it was Lucius finally responding to the urgent call for help from Ranca's patronus.

Jeremy and Ranca looked towards the entrance of the tent. Moments later they were taken by surprise when a team of unknown wizards burst through the entrance, wands drawn, firing hexes at the people inside.

Jeremy was first to go down. Young and inexperienced in the art of dueling, he was hit with a stunning spell before he could even draw his wand, and toppled off the desk landing in a heap on the floor. Violet didn't fair much better than Jeremy. She managed to dodge the initial stunning spell but was disarmed only seconds after drawing her wand. Without her wand, her attacker was easily able to subdue her, and no amount of struggling or fighting could free her from the wizard who was now holding her captive.

The only one of the three remaining Snatchers able to fend off his attackers was Ranca. He quickly produced a shield, protecting himself from the volley of hexes launched in his direction. When he turned on his foes, Ranca brought down two of them before conjuring a violent gust of wind that he sent rushing towards the oncoming wizards, striking his foe square in the chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him sailing out into the snow.

Ranca whirled around, his sights now set on those holding Violet and Jeremy captive. He raised his wand, but before he could utter a single incantation, a freezing cold burst of air rushed in through the entrance. The breath froze in his lungs, the blood stilled in his veins, and Ranca fell to the ground, his entire body frozen.

"Ranca!" Violet screamed, fighting to free herself but unable to move an inch. A voice drifted in on the chilling wind, and what Violet heard next was enough to make her blood run cold.

"Do not worry. He is not dead. I have simply put him on ice for a while."

Slowly, Violet lifted her gaze from where Ranca lay on the floor, and there before her stood Freeman Snowden.

"Hello, child," said Freeman softly, his pale lips forming a wicked smile. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, dear?"

In that moment Violet felt pure terror grip her heart, terror and panic like she had never known before. She wanted to scream, but found she couldn't even breathe. Her body paralyzed with fright, she opened her mouth in a silent scream, unable to move as her eyes widened in horror.

She was distantly aware of herself shrinking back as Freeman approached her. But her mind detached itself from the events surrounding her. She was beside herself with fright, suspended in a surreal moment of pure and unrelenting horror.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. How could he have come back and found her after all these years? And why was he still chasing her after so many years had passed?

Freeman cupped her cheek in his hand, smiling a devilishly wicked smile at her. "Remember me, darling?"

Her breath hitched as his cold flesh made contact with her skin, her heart racing in her chest. Any minute now it felt like it would burst, and she would die of fright as this terrifying man gazed at her, smiling at her as though they were old friends.

Freeman smirked. "No, I don't suppose you do remember me." His hand snaked down her cheek to her right breast, squeezing the firm mound in his icy fingers. A look of twisted pleasure crossed his face. "Do you remember this, darling?"

Tears filled Violet's eyes as she began to cry.

"That's what I thought." Freeman turned to face the eight wizards he'd brought with him, two of which were just now getting to their feet after being attacked by Ranca. "Let us be gone from here. I have what I came for. There is no reason for us to linger."

"What about that one?" one of Freeman's men asked, pointing to Scabior's still form as he lay unconscious in bed.

Freeman considered Scabior for a minute. "Bring him with us," he said at length. "Fiona has informed me of his condition. And I do not wish to rob Violet of the opportunity to watch her lover die."

\-----------------

Freeman and his men apparated to his moldy, dilapidated house in the mountains, bringing with them Violet and the Snatchers. Silis managed to avoid capture because he was still out taking a long walk in the woods. He didn't know that the others had been attacked and captured while he was away.

Violet kept glancing back at Scabior as she was forced to walk along a snow covered path between the tall evergreen trees. He was being forced to walk even though his steps were slow and unsteady. The bandages were unravelling from around his leg and trailing behind him, his wound bleeding black drops of blood onto the snow.

He had stumbled and fallen several times, and each time he fell he was picked up, shoved forward, and forced to continue walking. A lesser man would have given up, laid down in the snow and died. But not Scabior. He kept going, though he clearly had no idea where he was or why he was being forced to trek through a foot of snow in the cold.

As they continued their long walk, they began to ascend a hill, and the top of a tall, rotting building began to come into view.

With every step they took, Violet felt a growling sence of trepidation as they neared the building. Something about the old building seemed familiar to her, though she was quite sure she had never seen it before.

The ominous sense of foreboding grew stronger. When the building finally came into full view, Violet realized where she had seen this place before - in her nightmare where she and Heather had run to escape the onslaught of a sudden hailstorm. The two sisters had taken shelter in the very house they were now only half a mile away from. It was in this dream that she had seen Freeman, and felt the icy fear grip her heart that only he could make her feel.

She knew him. He had haunted not only her dreams but her past as well. He'd always been there, lurking just beneath the surface of her memories, buried beneath her conscious mind, awaiting the day he could return.

There was no escaping him. There never had been. He was permanently etched into her mind and thoughts, haunting her, tormenting her. He was the one who taught her how to hurt, who invaded the sanctity of her dreams, who poisoned her thoughts and spoiled her childhood. He was the one who destroyed her, and yet she could not remember him. She could not remember his name. She knew that she should fear him and that he had hurt her, though she couldn't remember how he'd made her hurt.

Freeman had destroyed her, broken her so that only fragments remained. Now he had come back to finish what was left, to take what he wanted and leave her for dead when he was done.

"No." Violet's legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed to the ground on her knees, her body doubled over with her forehead touching the snow. Her body shook with sobs and tortured screams. Fear and panic had finally overwhelmed her. She could not move another step.

Freeman walked up to her, grabbed her by the hair, and pulled her to her feet. She still kept screaming, crying, begging him not to take her to that rotting building.

Though he was too ill to be fully aware of what was happening around him, Scabior seemed to respond to the sound of Violet's voice. He slowly turned his head, his glazed eyes looking in her direction. He managed to speak her name, his words no more than a faint, ragged whisper.

"No!" Violet was still screaming. "Please, don't make me go in there. I can't go in there! I can't, please!"

Scabior took a step towards her, his weight bearing down on his injured leg. This caused him a tremendous amount of pain, and he once again fell to the cold ground below as his knees buckled and the strength went out of his body. But still he would not give up. And as Freeman glanced over his shoulder, he saw Scabior attempting to drag himself through the snow towards Violet.

Scabior's eyes were glazed and bleary, but bold determination still shone within the pale, grey-blue orbs. He did not care if he had to crawl to reach her. Something was wrong. His tired mind was able to register that much. His location, as well as how and why he got there, didn't matter compared to the importance of Violet's safety. He didn't even care about the pain he was in, or the fact that he had a raging fever. All he knew was that something was not right, and that Violet needed him.

Freeman's lip curled in a sneer as he watched Scabior dragging himself through the snow. "Enough of this," he spat with contempt, just as Scabior's gloved hand closed around Violet's fingers. With a wave of his wand, Freeman cast the same freezing charm on both of them, locking Violet and Scabior in place as they held hands in the snow.

Violet and the Snatchers were brought inside Freeman's house, and the one remaining Snatcher who hadn't been "put on ice" by Freeman's freezing charm soon discovered that there was more to this run down shack than meets the eye.

The prisoners were taken down a flight of stairs into a winding maze of underground corridors and passageways. Torches mounted in brackets on the walls lit the dusty hallways, but they were few and far between, keeping the passages in a perpetual state of semi-darkness. The floors were made from hard, dry earth that seemed to radiate cold about a foot into the air. The ground was frozen, with a thick layer of permafrost beneath the topsoil, and the walls were made from blocks of white stone.

Jeremy tried keeping track of the many corridors and stairways, so that if they managed to escape, they would be able to find their way out. But it was no use. After passing many halls with several doors and paths branching off in different directions, Jeremy lost all sense of direction. The underground caverns were a complex, maze-like structure. He had no idea how they would find their way out again.

When they reached their destination, Jeremy saw that they were now in a large, dimly lit room that contained half a dozen prison cells. Freeman pointed his wand at the lock on one of the cell doors. The door swung open on its rusty hinges, squealing and screeching loudly in a desperate plea for oil.

"Get in there!" Freeman roughly shoved Jeremy forward into the cell. Violet, Scabior and Ranca were unceremoniously dumped into the same call with Jeremy. The cell door slammed shut and automatically locked behind them.

Freeman removed the freezing charm from Violet and Ranca. There was no need to lift the spell from Scabior. The ailing Snatcher's high fever had neutralized the spell after several minutes, rendering the charm useless.

"Sorry I couldn't provide you with better accommodations, Violet," Freeman said, his tone dry without a hint of sympathy in his voice. "But there are members of your company that need to be dealt with." He glanced down at Scabior, who was lying on the floor in a corner. "Enjoy yourself, darling." He winked at her, blew her a kiss, then turned on heel and left with the rest of his men following behind him.

Ranca blinked, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness that surrounded him. He felt around in his pockets for his wand, only to find that it was missing, because Freeman had taken their wands before imprisoning them.

Jeremy sighed sadly, his fingers wrapping around the bars on their cell door. "We're never going to get out here. We're all going to die down here, aren't we?"

"No, we aren't going to die down here," said Ranca. "There has to be a way out. Don't worry, Jeremy. We'll think of something."

A low groan drifted up from the corner of the cell. Scabior was conscious again, his muscles twitching in fitfill spasms as he lay in the corner on the floor. His eyes opened unseeing, the whites showing as his eyes rolled back in his head, the spasms growing stronger and more intense as he started having a seizure.

Violet's eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, and the first sight that met her eyes as she became used to the dim light was Scabior's body seizing and convulsing on the floor.

Ranca looked down and saw Scabior's eyes rolling in his head, foam dribbling from the corner of his mouth as he thrashed and jerked. "Dear Merlin, he's having a seizure! Hold him down so he doesn't hurt himself."

"Scabior..." Violet sobbed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "Scabior, no, don't die... Please, you can't die. You have to hold on!" She tried to hold him still, but his lean, muscular frame was too strong for her. Ranca knelt beside her, and together they managed to firmly but gently hold him down as he continued to convulse on the floor.

"Why is this happening?" Violet sobbed. "Is it because of the posion?"

"It could be," said Ranca. "But it could also be his fever. His fever was dangerously high when we left, and without the antidote it's probably gotten worse."

There was a choking gurgle, and Scabior began to vomit more of the bloody poison that was rapidly filling his stomach and lungs.

"Roll him on his side!" Ranca shouted. "Quickly!"

Violet couldn't look. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath hitching as she wept, and she and Ranca eased Scabior onto his side.

A pool of black fluid formed beneath him on the floor, as Scabior vomited and gasped, struggling to breathe. His body then gave one last shuddering spasm, and the world around him faded to black.

The next time he opened his eyes, Scabior found himself lying on his side with his head resting in Violet's lap.

He blinked his eyes and looked around. He saw that Violet's eyes were closed, her head down, chin resting against her chest, with one arm wrapped around his side. Scabior turned his head slightly. There was Jeremy, curled in a ball on the floor in the corner of the room. His face was stained with tears, his eyes red rimmed and swollen. Ranca was sitting beside Jeremy, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs with his forehead touching his knees, head bowed in silence.

The room they were in was dimly lit and quiet. No one moved or spoke. Scabior found this unsettling, and could tell that something was wrong. He then realized that he wasn't in pain. His body felt strangely light, he wasn't burning hot with fever, and his chest no longer ached with every breath he took.

This worried him more than the unnerving silence that filled the room, or the fact that no one around him was moving or talking. He knew that he'd been poisoned and injured. He should be in pain. He should feel something, anything that would indicate he was still alive and breathing. But instead he felt nothing at all. Absolutely nothing.

Scabior sat up and looked around. He didn't know where he was, but it was obvious that he and the others had been imprisoned in what appeared to be an underground chamber. "Violet," he said, turning around so that he was facing her. He then screamed and shot up off the floor when he happened to glance down and saw his own body lying motionless on the floor.

There he was, lying in a pool of his own blackened blood that had poured onto the floor and soaked through the fabric of Violet's clothing. He didn't appear to be breathing, and his skin was deathly pale. But he couldn't possibly be in two places at once unless -

"Oh shit," Scabior murmured. "I'm dead."


	19. Fighting Spirit

Scabior was still, staring down at his apparently lifeless body. When the shock at what he was seeing began to subside, the emotions that began to rise up in his chest were sorrow and grief. Not for himself or his death, but for Violet. She had come so far from the miserable, suicidally depressed individual she was when they first met, and was finally starting to gain confidence in herself and develop self-esteem. What would happen to her now that he was gone? Would she revert to her previous state? Would she finally end her life to be with her beloved Snatcher?

"Oh, Merlin, no..." Scabior groaned. He didn't want to think about Violet killing herself. But he knew her well enough to know it was a possibility.

He looked over at Jeremy, who was curled in the fetal position on the floor, then back at Violet. Neither one of them seemed to be taking his death well, but it was Violet he was most concerned about. Then an idea came to him.

'Wait a minute. If I'm dead, an I'm a ghost, she should still be able to talk to me and see me,' he thought.

Of course, it was so obvious. People in the wizarding world could easily communicate with spirits. There was no reason why he wouldn't be able to stay with her even though he was dead.

Scabior kneeled down beside her, being careful to avoid stepping on or near his body. He paused, taking a closer look at the body on the floor beside him. Even in death he wad still an attractive man.

He shook his head. "Wha a waste. You were too young an 'ansome. You didn't deserve this." He stopped when he realized what he was saying. He swallowed hard, forcing down the anguish that was causing his throat to constrict. "I didn't deserve this," he whispered.

He turned back to Violet. "Violet, can you 'ear me?" He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, and found that his hand went right through her. He had to concentrate, and after three or four tries he finally managed to touch her shoulder. "Violet? Say something, pet. You can 'ear me, can't you? Violet?"

Violet stirred slightly. Her eyelids cracked open as she lifted her chin up off her chest. She thought she felt a slight pressure on her shoulder, but she couldn't see the ghostly figure before her.

"Violet? Violet!" Scabior was growing frantic. He practically screamed her name, but she remained oblivious to his efforts to communicate with her. "Dammit, Violet! Why can't you 'ear me?"

"She can't 'ear you 'cause you're not dead yet."

Scabior started and spun around to see a familiar young boy standing behind him. The boy had a thick mane of blond hair with a dark green streak down the left side of his head. He was smiling at Scabior.

"Malchior?" Scabior said softly, his kohl lined eyes wide with surprise.

The boy's smile widened. "'Ello brother."

"Malchior!" Scabior flung himself at his sibling and wrapped his arms around him. He found that he could hold his younger brother. It wasn't like when he'd tried to touch Violet and his hand passed through her.

For the first time in several years, Scabior felt overcome with emotion, and felt tears come to his eyes as he held his brother. "Malchior, I thought I'd never see you again," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

The younger wizard embraced his brother, weeping openly as tears spilled from the corners of his deep brown eyes. For several seconds they held each other, never wanting to let go. Scabior hadn't seen or held his brother in over twenty years, and if he could he would have held on to him forever.

"'Ang on," Scabior said at length. He released his brother and took a step back. "You said they can't 'ear me because I'm not dead yet."

"Tha's righ. You aren't dead yet," said Malchior, wiping tears from his eyes. "You're on the edge of life an death in a very deep state of unconsciousness. You 'ave a pulse an you are still breathing, but you are just barely clinging to life. The signs of life are so faint tha your friends think they've lost you."

"An why can't they 'ear you? We both know tha you're dead."

"They aren't aware of my presence because I've been sent 'ere just for you, brother. My time is short, as is yours. Any minute now you could pass beyond their ability to 'elp you. You still 'ave a chance to survive, but you must act quickly."

"Wha do I do then?" Scabior asked, already prepared to do whatever it took to get Violet and his men to safety.

"First, you must find the room where Snowden 'as 'idden your wands an return them to your friends," Malchior explained. "It shouldn't be difficult because all the extra passageways are an illusion. It's a way to keep people trapped down 'ere even if they escaped their prison cells. There are only two rooms down 'ere. You will be able to find them because the illusion is only visible to those who are still living. You 'ave slipped far enough onto the dividing line between life an death that the illusion won't effect you."

It sounded like a simple task. But Scabior could see one major problem that stood in his way.

"'Ow will I be able to lead them out if they can't see or 'ear me?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, brother, but you will 'ave to figure tha out on your own," said Malchior, his body beginning to fade out of sight. "I love you very much, Scabior. You're the best big brother anyone could ever 'ave. I trust tha you will find a way to save your friends."

"Malchior, wait - " Scabior began, reaching towards his brother. But it was too late. His sibling had already vanished.

"Goodbye, Scabior," Malchior's voice softly whispered. "Until we meet again, dear brother."

Scabior was still, his arm still outstretched towards where his brother had been standing only seconds ago. Slowly, he lowered his arm, then looked down at the others who were lying on the floor around him. He took one last look at Violet, then turned and ran through the bars on the cell door, and was off down the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him.

He soon discovered that he could cover greater distances in a shorter amount of time as a spirit than he could in his physical body. The world around him passed by at an alarmingly fast pace, his feet unable to feel the ground below. And yet he could easily pick out all the details of the area around him, as each torch and every hanging cobweb rushed by in what would have been a hazy blur had he been capable of running at this pace while still in his physical body.

It felt like only seconds had passed when he came upon a large wooden door to his right. There were no other rooms down here, so he assumed this was the one he was searching for, and passed effortlessly through the door and into the room.

What he saw on the other side of the door was a room filled with boxes of every shape and size, stacked up in the corners of the room. The walls were lined with shelves, and each shelf contained an unorganized collection of various objects.

Scabior's pale, grey-blue eyes scanned the objects on the shelves, noticing everything from old potion bottles and jewelry to books, more boxes, and even a ragged looking stuffed wolf. It appeared as though Freeman had a habit of stealing from his victims and storing their belongings away in this room. Finally, his gaze settled on what he'd been looking for - a jumbled set of four wands lying on a shelf just above his head. He also noticed other discarded bundles of wands on various shelves throughout the room, including a broken wand that had fallen to the floor, and now lay in splinters and shards atop one of the cardboard boxes. But the wands to his left seemed to have been placed there recently, and weren't covered in a layer of dust, grime and cobwebs like everything else in the room was.

Maneuvering around and through the sea of boxes so as not step on anything (he did this out of force of habit, forgetting for a moment that he was in spirit form and would simply pass through any solid object he came in contact wirh), Scabior reached up and tried to remove the set of four wands from the shelf. It wasn't until his fingers passed right through the wooden objects and the shelf that he remembered he was half dead and unable to touch solid objects.

"Dammit!" Scabior hissed in anger and frustration. How could he free the others if he couldn't return their wands?

Scabior tried again and again to grasp the bundle of wands and remove them from the shelf, and each time his fingers drifted through them as if he weren't even there.

Furious, Scabior kicked one of the boxes, only to have his foot sail clean through the dusty cardboard box. He muttered a string of obscenities under his breath, then paused to look around. He knew this was getting him no where. He had to calm down and think.

How had he managed to touch Violet's shoulder in the prison cell? She had opened her eyes and acted like she was responding to his touch. So by rights if he could touch her, he should be able to touch, and perhaps even hold and pick up, other things as well. But how?

He remembered that he had to concentrate on touching her and making contact with her body. He had to stop and think about what her skin felt like, and how it felt to touch it. And in order to do that, he had to calm himself. He couldn't rescue his friends and save Violet if he was so angry he couldn't see straight.

Scabior inhaled deeply, noticing how he no longer felt the satisfying physical sensation of air filling his lungs as he took a deep breath then exhaled through his nose. His heart should have been racing in his chest, but instead all he felt was a quiet stillness deep within.

This was insane. He could no longer feel his own heart beating, and yet he had to remain calm and rescue his friends. Scabior knew that he had to do it, he had to relax and will himself into a calm state of mind. Not for the sake of his own life. That didn't matter to him anymore. He had to do this for Violet. He was determined to set her free.

He tried reaching for the wands on the shelf, and this time he succeeded in grabbing the bundle of wands. But the moment he touched them he gasped as the strength fell from his body, and for a brief second it felt as though he were going to collapse and lose consciousness.

He staggered backwards, the room spinning as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. He wasn't meant to hold solid objects while in spirit form, and the effort it took to hold such objects was starting to drain him of his energy.

The dizziness soon passed, but Scabior realized that he had another problem on his hands. Solid objects could not pass through other solid objects like he could. If he wanted to leave the room with the wands he'd taken from the shelf, he was going to have to open the door to get out.

Scabior took a deep breath, hating the way he couldn't feel the air enter or leave his lungs. He focused his mind on holding the door handle, imagining how it would feel like he'd done with Violet, then reached out and managed to firmly grasp the door handle.

The instant his fingers closed around the handle, he felt another wave of dizziness wash over him. His knees buckled, and he felt another sharp dip in his energy as sudden weakness and exhaustion slammed into him with such force it left him reeling, unable to tell up from down as the world turned upside down and spun around him. But he couldn't give up now. Scabior leaned his weight against the door. The door flew open, and Scabior tumbled out into the corridor and fell to the floor.

He lay sprawled on his back for several seconds as the dizziness gradually passed. How he had managed to hold onto the wands without dropping or breaking them during his fall he didn't know. All he knew was that he was glad to be out of there, even though the effort had cost him dearly and left him half unconscious on the floor.

Scabior slowly got to his feet, noticing the severe decline in the amount of energy and strength he had left. He felt drained and exhausted, but he refused to give up. He was so close now. All he had to do was return the wands and figure out a way to lead the others out of their underground prison before his body expired.

Racing back the way he came, Scabior made it to the prison cell the others were trapped in. He placed the wands on the ground outside door, then passed through the bars and into the prison cell. One by one he slipped each of the four wands, including his own since he figured it wouldn't do him any good in his current condition, through the bars and let them clatter onto the floor, hoping the noise would rouse the others.

Ranca was the first to open his eyes and look up at the sound of wands dropping onto the floof, followed shortly by Violet, who awoke to find one of the wands rolling towards her.

Violet looked down and as a familiar length of ivy rolled across the floor and stopped at her feet. She didn't know that Scabior had rolled his wand towards her on purpose, hoping she would see it and know what it meant.

"What is that?" Ranca asked.

Violet picked up the wand and turned it over in her hands. She could just make out the six sided star pattern carved into the handle. She recognized that pattern and knew at once who the wand belonged to.

"This is Scabior's wand," she whispered in the dark.

"Scabior's wand?" Ranca echoed. "But how?"

Three more wands clattered to the floor, and Jeremy woke up, watching them roll across the ground and into the light of the torches on the walls. "I think this is my wand," he said, picking up the narrow strip of rowan.

"And this is mine," said Violet.

Ranca reached for the last remaining wand and saw that it was his. "What is going on here?" he asked, now feeling thoroughly confused by what was happening.

"I don't know," said Violet. "But we're getting out of here." She pointed her wand at the lock on the cell door. "[i]Alohomora[/i]." The door swung open on its rusty hinges.

"Wait," said Jeremy. "What about...well..." His words trailed off as he glanced down at Scabior's body.

"We're taking him with us," Violet replied without hesitation. "We're not leaving him down here to rot. Ranca, can you carry him?"

Ranca nodded. "Yes, Violet. I will carry him."

Unbeknownst to Violet and the others, Scabior was standing just outside the cell door, watching them and listening to their conversation. He couldn't help but smile as he watched Violet step up and take charge of the situation.

He was proud of her. He knew that she was capable of a lot if she stopped doubting herself and gave herself a chance. Perhaps she could be the new second in command if he died and Ranca took his place.

Ranca lifted Scabior's unconscious form off the floor, and slung his master's body over his shoulder. He did this with as much grace and respect as he could, positioning the body so he could wrap one arm around his master's waist and hold him without dropping him.

Scabior saw that now was the time for him to act, and to try leading Violet and the others to safety. He moved towards Violet, and just as Jeremy was about to speak and mention how it was a maze in the tunnels beyond their cell, Scabior reached out and seized hold of Violet by the wrist.

The witch screamed and jumped back from the unseen presence that had grabbed her, but Scabior wouldn't let go. Using every last ounce of strength he had, he yanked her out the door and began pulling her along the corridor.

'I'm getting you out of 'ere, Violet,' he thought. 'I will make sure you escape if it's the last thing I ever do.'

Scabior was running with her now, not even bothering to look back. He could only hope that Ranca and Jeremy would follow, for he doubted that he had the strength for a return trip if someone got left behind. He was fading fast, his energy slipping away with every step he took. It wouldn't be long before his strength gave out, and he faded away into nothing.

Scabior was the only one who could see the path ahead for what it truly was - a narrow corridor without a single door or hallway branching off from it. Without him leading the way, the others wouldn't stand a chance. They'd be lost in a matter of minutes with no hope of ever getting out.

Violet kept running as Scabior pulled her along. Whenever she tried to pull back or wriggle out of his grasp, he gripped her tighter. He had to get her out of there. He must. Nothing else mattered now but her. He had to keep going for her.

Suddenly he came to an abrupt hault just a few feet away from the exit. It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. At the same time it felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under his feet, and Scabior collapsed to the ground, taking Violet down with him.

He fell to the floor, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. Scabior was suffocating. He couldn't breathe. Something was wrong, and he didn't know what was happening. Was he dying? Was this finally the end?

Scabior looked back at Violet. She had fallen and hit her head on the stone steps that led up to the door that opened into Freeman's house. She was dazed from the fall, and there was a trickle of blood running from underneath her hairline and down past her right eye, but other than that she was fine. He then heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and saw Ranca and Jeremy approaching them from out of the shadows.

"Violet, what happened?" Ranca called out as he ran towards her. 'Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Violet, rubbing a sore spot on the side of her head. "I just tripped is all." She stared ahead at the spot where Scabior's spirit lay curled on his side, gasping and struggling to breathe. She seemed to sense his presence there, but couldn't see who or what had guided her to this location.

"Hey look!" Jeremy cried out, pointing at the door beyond the stairs. "That's the door we came in. It means were almost out of here!"

Violet's eyes widened as she suddenly realized who had been leading them to safety. "Scabior," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. And then she heard him speaking to her with his last strangled breath.

"Go on, Violet. Live. An never forget tha I will always love you."

Scabior's spirit vanished, his last ounce of strength completely exhausted. But little did he know where he would wake up the next time he opened his eyes.


	20. Patience & Hope

Jeremy was already sprinting forward up the steps, his wand at the ready in case they met with any foes on the other side of the door. Ranca followed behind, still carrying Scabior's body over his shoulder. Violet, who was still somewhat dazed from her fall and in shock from hearing what sounded like Scabior's voice speaking to her in her mind, took a minute to gather herself before standing and making her way up the stairs.

"Anyone know what we'll do once we're out there?" Ranca asked.

"I know what to do," said Jeremy. "I saw the way they brought us in. When we go out here, we won't be far from the front door. So how about I lead, Ranca follows, and Violet can hex anyone who comes after us?"

"Sounds good," said Ranca. "Violet?"

"Yes, that'll work. Though I think it's only fair to warn you that I don't have the best aim in the world."

"Then I'll try to cover you if I can," said Jeremy. "Once we're outside, we should be able to apparate back to camp. Now, is everyone ready?"

Violet and Ranca both nodded. Jeremy put his hand on the door handle, and was just about to open the door when Scabior's eyes opened. The head Snatcher inhaled a deep, rasping breath, then proceeded to vomit blood down Ranca's back.

"He's alive!" Violet exclaimed, her joy at seeing Scabior breathing again rapidly turning to horror as she saw him vomit down Ranca's back, his black blood spattering onto the floor.

Jeremy only had to look at Scabior for a second to tell that his condition was critical. "Let's get him out of here! Now!"

He opened the door, eyes darting left and right as he searched for any signs of Freeman or his followers. But the room they were in was empty, and Jeremy quickly led the others through the room, around the corner and down the hall, moving as fast and as quietly as he could towards the exit.

It was nothing less than a miracle that allowed them to escape that day, unharmed and with Scabior still clinging to life. They ran out into the snow, and disapparated the moment they were far enough from the apparition boundary to leave.

When they returned to their campsite in the woods, a welcome sight met their eyes as Silis and Lucius Malfoy ran up to them in the snow.

"What happened to you?" Silis asked. "I returned to camp and no one was here. Then Lucius finally showed up and neither one of us knew where you were."

While Silis was talking, Lucius had walked up to Ranca and was easing Scabior's limp form off Ranca's shoulder. Scabior was still alive, but his breath was coming in shallow, wheezing gasps. A mixture of blood, bile and vomit dripped from his chin, and he was shivering as sweat poured from every inch of his body.

"Ranca, help me bring him inside," said Lucius. "Quickly. We haven't much time."

Ranca and Lucius carried Scabior inside and laid him on his bed. Lucius then quickly got to work, and removed a small package wrapped in black silk from a pocket in his robes.

Lucius sat down on the bed, untied the ribbon on his silken bundle and unrolled the material parcel on the mattress. There were several small pockets within the parcel that contained potion bottles and packets of freshly picked herbs.

"When I received word from Ranca's patronus that Scabior had been poisoned by Bellatrix, I knew at once what had to be done," Lucius explained while he removed the necessary items needed to treat Scabior from his silk parcel. "Bellatrix has invented her own unique brand of poison. It is lethal, but death from the poison is a slow and painful process, meaning that we still have time to save him.

"For a while Bellatrix was the only one who knew how to cure the poison. But she couldn't keep her mouth shut, and told Narcissa about what she was doing who, naturally, informed me of her sister's vile creation and how to cure it."

Lucius handed Ranca a small glass bottle containing a deep blue liquid. "Have him drink half of that," he told Ranca. He then removed a packet of herbs from his silken parcel and began to rip the herbs in half, shredding them into small bits and pieces. The leaves, which resembled a cross between dandelion and blackberry leaves, began to ooze a thick white fluid as Lucius tore them in two.

Ranca carefully lifted Scabior's head up off the pillow and held the potion bottle his master's lips. Scabior involuntarily swallowed the antidote. He wasn't consciously aware of himself, his location or even what was going on around him. All he knew was that someone was trying to get him to drink something, and his body instinctively reacted to the feel of the cool fluid against the back of his throat by swallowing the liquid.

When Ranca had finished giving Scabior the antidote, he replaced the cork in the bottle and set it aside on the night stand. He looked back at Lucius, who now had his hands full of shredded green and white herbal paste.

"You'd better hold him down," warned Lucius. "Because the next step is going to quite painful."

Ranca didn't like the sound of that. Scabior had already suffered through enough. But there was no way around it, for without treatment Scabior would surely die.

He reluctantly leaned over Scabior and applied pressure to his shoulders and upper arms, pinning him down in bed. The head Snatcher moaned faintly when he felt Ranca lean his weight across him, and turned his head in Ranca's direction, looking at him and wondering what was going on.

"Silis, hold his legs," said Lucius.

Silis sat down at the foot of the bed, and wrapped his hands around Scabior's lower legs, holding him still as he glanced over at Lucius.

Lucius took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do. He then pressed the herbal paste against the wound in Scabior's thigh.

The instant the mass of shredded herbs made contact with Scabior's wound, the head Snatcher began to scream in agony. The milky fluid from the herbs seeped into his wound, causing a terrible burning sensation as it entered his bloodstream.

Lucius did his best to block out the sound of Scabior's screams. He kept his head down and his eyes closed as he repeated an incantation in Latin while holding the herbs against Scabior's wound. With each repetition of the incantation, Lucius' voice slowly raised in volume, starting at a whisper and gradually becoming louder. Scabior's screams also grew in volume as he began struggling against Silis and Ranca.

The spell that Lucius was casting drove the milky fluid from the herbs into Scabior's bloodstream, burning out the poison as it went. It was also working to help heal the wound, but it was causing Scabior a tremendous amount of pain in the process. Scabior's struggles became more violent, his hips and back arching as he screamed, pressing his head against the pillow with his eyes squeezed shut.

Listening to the sound of her lover's tortured screams was too much for Violet. It was breaking her heart to have to stand by helplessly and watch as Scabior twisted and writhed in bed, trying with all his might to free himself. She clamped her hands over her ears, backing into a corner and shutting her eyes just as Jeremy ran past and joined Ranca and Silis to help hold Scabior down.

A white light was now glowing faintly beneath Lucius' hands. His voice grew louder as the light became brighter, and the black lines that had spread from Scabior's wound up his leg and abdomen began to recede. Lucius' chanting reached a fever pitch as the light flared brilliantly beneath his hands. He dug his fingernails into Scabior's flesh, and loudly called out the incantation one final time. Scabior's struggles ceased immediately as his body went limp, his consciousness on the verge of slipping away once again.

Lucius lifted his head and opened his eyes. There was a thin layer of perspiration coating his forehead, with strands of his silvery blond hair hanging down and sticking to his face. He was also slightly winded, as though casting the spell had taken a lot out of him and left him breathless and exhausted.

"Bandages," he breathed. "We need to bind the herbs to his wound."

Jeremy and Silis got off the bed while Ranca conjured a fresh roll of bandages and began wrapping them around Scabior's wounded leg, making sure the herbs stayed in place while he dressed the wound.

"Someone take his temperature," Lucius ordered, catching his breath as he moved towards the side of the bed.

Violet uncovered her ears and cautiously opened her eyes. She heard Scabior moan faintly, but at least he wasn't screaming anymore. She took a few steps towards the bed, wondering if it was finally over and if Scabior would now be able to rest and begin his recovery. It was then that she heard Silis announce that Scabior's fever had risen dangerously high.

"His temperature is one hundred and four," said Silis.

"We need to lower his temperature before he starts going into convulsions," said Lucius, who by now had taken complete control of the situation. "One of you should remove his clothing while the other needs to gather some damp cloths and place them on his body."

Violet stepped forward. "Please, let me do it. I want to help him."

Lucius nodded, letting her know it was alright to proceed.

Ranca stepped aside as Violet began stripping off Scabior's clothing. She removed his scarf and glove, followed by his jacket and vest, working quickly and effectively with her hands instead of using magic. And as he watched, Ranca couldn't help but notice the skill and ease with witch she removed Scabior's clothes, and thought that she must have had a great deal of practice doing this.

"I'll go get the damp cloths then," said Ranca, and turned and headed for the bathroom.

Violet continued to undress Scabior until he was naked from the waist up. There was sweat glistening on hia chest and stomach. And as Violet watched his chest steadily rise and fall with each labored breath he took, she noticed that there was still a dull, rasping sound when he breathed.

Ranca returned a few minutes later with a cold, damp towel that he laid across Scabior's chest and abdomen. He also had a cool washcloth that he folded and placed on the ailing Snatcher's forehead. Violet then went outside to scoop up a few handfuls of snow, which she brought back and spread across the towel on Scabior's upper body.

The cold cloths and snow seemed to help bring Scabior around, and he opened his eyes, gazing wearily around the room. His bleary-eyed gaze then fell on Violet, and he began to speak.

"Wha are you still doing 'ere?" he rasped, his voice low and hoarse. "You shouldn't be 'ere. You're just going to die like all the others."

"What?" Violet took a step back, looking at Scabior with marked confusion on her face. She didn't understand what he was talking about.

"It's alright, Violet," Lucius stated calmly. "The fever has clouded his thoughts. He doesn't know what he's saying right now.

What Lucius said was true. Scabior was delirious and unaware of what he was saying. You could tell by looking in his eyes that he wasn't himself. It was as if he was already gone, like his soul had departed, leaving behind an empty shell with no conscious thought or physical awareness.

"My family..." Scabior continued, wandering aimlessly from one topic to the next. "'Ow I miss them... You should 'ave seen my mother's dress. It was a beau'iful dress. Never got to wear it to 'is graduation. Never got to see 'im tha way. She's dead now... She's dead an it's all because of me!"

Scabior's voice rose is volume as he shouted his last sentence. Lucius placed a comforting hand on Scabior's shoulder and attempted to calm him down.

"Shh, settle down, Scabior, settle down now. It's alright. There's no need to get upset."

Scabior choked out a low, half-strangled sob, hot tears streaming from the corners of his kohl lined eyes, leaving trails of dark eyeliner trickling down his flushed cheeks. "She's gone," he whimpered. "Bellatrix killed them. She took everything from me... There's nothing left anymore... My brother, my parents... All dead now..."

There was genuine sadness in his voice and the expression on his face, something that went beyond feverish ramblings. It was obvious that he had been deeply hurt by what had happened to him in his past, and that these memories had scarred him for the rest of his days.

Lucius continued to speak soft, soothing words of comfort to the ailing Snatcher, until at last Scabior's tired eyes closed and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

"He'll be alright now," said Lucius. "We just need to give him time to rest and recover."

\--------------

The next few days passed slowly and quietly, dragging on with a thinly veiled note of restless anxiety in the air. Scabior had fallen into a deep sleep from which he would not wake. He was still alive and breathing, and his fever had gone down to one hundred and two, but he hadn't woken up since Lucius had first treated him.

Lucius decided to stay at the Snatcher's campsite while Scabior was recovering, for he was the only one who knew how to cast the spell that was needed when Scabior's bandages were changed and fresh herbs applied to his wound. Without it the treatment wouldn't be as effective, and they would be unable to force the magical essence of the herbs into his bloodstream to cure him.

While he was there, Lucius explained to the others the nature of Bellatrix's poison and how it worked. He told them that, as the poison spreads, the victim's blood turns black, gradually turning the blood itself into poison. Once enough of the poison has built up inside a person's body, the body attempts to rid itself of the foreign substance through bleeding, vomiting and excessive mucus secretions. Eventually the victim will begin to hemorrhage internally, and will either bleed to death or choke on the buildup of bloody, poisoned mucus in their lungs and die. Death from Bellatrix's poison usually occurred within twenty-four hours without proper treatment.

According to Lucius, they had caught it in time before the poison had spread far enough to kill him. And while this was good news that came as a welcome relief to those in Scabior's group, it did little to ease Violet's troubled mind because Scabior had now been sleeping for two days straight. He wouldn't wake up when Lucius changed his bandages, when Ranca changed his bedclothes, or when Violet sat beside his bed dabbing his fevered brow with a damp washcloth. They couldn't feed him while he slept. They were just barely able to administer the antidote that he was required to take every four to six hours to rid his body of the poison, which could sometimes be a messy affair if you weren't too careful.

Ranca would sit on the side of the bed, tilt Scabior's head back and carefully pour a little of the antidote at a time down his throat. Most of the time Scabior would involuntarily swallow the antidote if it was given to him slowly a few drops at a time. Other times he wouldn't respond at all, and Ranca would have to gently rub the front of Scabior's neck to help coax him into swallowing the antidote.

They kept him alive by administering intravenous potions, such as nutrient and rehydration potions that provided him with necessary vitamins and fluids to sustain him throughout his recovery. This was carried out by Lucius, who was the only one who knew how to administer potions intravenously, and could cast the spell to send the potion directly into a vein in Scabior's wrist.

To Violet it seemed as though they kept moving from one bad situation to the next. First it was poison that threatened to take Scabior's life. Now it was dehydration that could kill him. And the fact that he was still running a fever didn't help.

"I'm sorry, Violet," Luicus said, sighing wearily as he looked back at the sleeping Snatcher. "Scabior will continue to sleep for the next few days. Bellatrix intentionally designed the antidote so that it contains an ingredient that helps combat the poison while also putting the patient to sleep. On one hand the added rest is useful for helping the patient recover. But it also means that the patient cannot eat or drink for an extended period of time."

Violet frowned. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"I don't know." Lucius shrugged and sadly shook his head. "I gave up trying to figure out my wife's sister ages ago. According to Narcissa, Bellatrix has never been quite right. Thankfully Scabior only needs to keep taking the antidote as often as he has been for the first two days to purge the poison from his system. After that he'll only require two doses a day for four or five days. He should wake up eventually once he starts taking fewer doses of the antidote."

"That is if he doesn't die from dehydration first," said Violet, looking down at the still sleeping form of Scabior lying in bed beside her.

Lucius sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. He could see that the mental and emotional strain was taking its toll on her. She had dark circles under her eyes from sitting up with Scabior all night, refusing to sleep or leave his side for a minute until she was sure he would be alright. Her hair was hanging in tangled, unkempt strands in her face, and she was exhausted.

The blond wizard took Violet's hand in his. "Violet, you know as well as I do that Scabior is a fighter. He will get through this. I have known him for longer than you have, and I have seen him suffer through far worse than this. He's made it through more loss, grief and misfortune than anyone I have ever known. The man has terrible luck actually. But the point is that he has survived, and he will keep on surviving."

Tears welled up in Violet's eyes as she listened to Lucius speak. She was trying hard not to cry, to be brave for Scabior and stay strong throughout his recovery. But it was very difficult, as she watched her lover lying there in an inert stupor, unable to move, speak or even feed himself.

Lucius let go of her hand. "He will be alright," he assured her. "I have everything under control, and he is receiving enough liquids and nourishment to keep him alive. Understand?"

"Yes." Violet sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Alright then. Now, I need to gather more herbs for Scabior. I shall return shortly. In the meantime, I suggest that you get some sleep. You won't be doing Scabior any favors by exhausting yourself to the point of becoming ill."

After Lucius left, Violet lay down next to Scabior in bed. She curled up on her side so that she was facing him in bed. He was still burning up with a fever, and she could feel the warmth radiating off him as she lay next to him in bed.

She listened to the sound of his breathing, noting that the harsh, rasping noise had diminished slightly, and that his breathing had eased somewhat. She ran her fingers over the ring that adorned his right hand, taking in the fine detail and craftsmanship. She wondered where he had gotten it, and decided that she should ask him about it someday after he woke up.

She let her gaze drift upwards and rest upon his face. He was sleeping peacefully, his breathing shallow but even. His eyeliner had worn off and there was a fine growth of stubble forming on his cheeks. Strands of his red and brown hair clung to his warm, moist skin, hanging down in his face and fanning out in disarray across the pillow. And yet he looked just as beautiful as he always did, sound asleep, completely oblivious to the world around him.

Violet took his hand in hers, holding it while she used her other to brush the hair out of his face. "Please wake up, Scabior," she said. "I can't lose you. Come back to me, please." She leaned forward, her lips pressed against his as she kissed him. There was a slight pause, and then Violet felt his fingers curling around hers as he squeezed her hand.

Their lips parted. Violet gasped and looked down at him in surprise. He was still asleep, the fingers on his right hand loosely intertwined with hers. Had he just responded to her kiss by squeezing her hand? Or was she imagining it?

"Scabior?" Violet said softly. She watched him, waiting and hoping that he would respond again. But Scabior neither moved nor spoke, his eyes closed, adrift in the peaceful depths of slumber.

"Scabior..." Her words were faint, a look of disappointed sadness on her face as she continued to watch him sleep. She was sure he had squeezed her hand. He was in there somewhere, he just couldn't wake up.

The days continued to pass, and Scabior continued to sleep. During this time, there was talk amongst the Snatchers about needing to move camp to different location as soon as possible. They feared that Freeman might return, but they couldn't pack up and move while Scabior was still recovering from being poisoned.

Some of the Snatchers, including Greyback who had finally returned after the moon began to wane, said that they were sitting ducks since Freeman already knew the location of their camp. Others said that Freeman might not think to look for them in the same place, and probably would have expected them to have moved by now. While others argued that Freeman would know they couldn't move camp, not while Scabior was in such poor health.

The Snatchers began to argue and fight amongst themselves, until Ranca finally had to step in and settle everyone down.

"Let me remind you that until Scabior is well again I am in charge," Ranca boldy declared to the rest of the group. "Now, while I agree that the need to move camp is an urgent and pressing matter, there is nothing we can do until Scabior recovers. I vote that we leave here as soon as Scabior is well enough to travel. And in the end it will be up to him to decide when we leave. We are to follow his orders. He will tell us when we're supposed to leave."

Greyback growled and grumbled a bit when he heard this, but didn't argue about it anymore.

"Ranca, wouldn't it be in Scabior's best interest if we move now?" asked Jeremy. "What if Freeman came back and tried to kill him?"

"We can't move him now," said Ranca simply, his tone leaving no room for argument and making it clear that his decision was final. "He's practically a hair from being comatose. We haven't been able to feed him or get water in him for five days. Lucius is keeping him alive with nutrient and rehydration potions that are administered intravenously. The only thing we can do is double our protective wards, and keep a constant watch over the forest for signs of Freeman's return."

Jeremy became quiet and sadly hung his head. After all this time he was in hopes that Scabior was starting to get better. But from the sounds of it, their leader was clinging to life by a single fragile thread. And until Scabior was better, all they could do was stay put and wait for him to recover.

\-----------

It had now been six days since Bellatrix poisoned Scabior. And for the first time since Lucius had begun treating him, Scabior was finally showing some signs of improvement.

Lucius noticed when he was changing Scabior's bandages that the wound on his leg was no longer oozing black blood. It was healing, and the black lines that had once snaked their way across Scabior's body had faded from existence. This meant that Scabior no longer needed to keep taking the antidote that was putting him to sleep. Lucius would continue using the herbs for another day or two as a precaution, and to make sure that the last of the poison was out of his system. But it was no longer necessary to keep giving him the antidote every day.

The other thing that Lucius noticed was that Scabior's temperature had gone back to normal. He had stopped shivering and sweating, and was now breathing easier than he was before. These were all good signs indicating that he was recovering. The only thing left that troubled Lucius was that he could see that Scabior had lost weight. Scabior had always been a bit on the thin side, his lean frame now looking skinnier than before. He needed more than the nutrient potion he'd been given for the last several days. He needed regular meals to start putting weight on him again.

\------------

Scabior was lost in a world of darkness and torment. For days he had wandered the vast regions of his mind, unable to escape the pain he was in even during sleep. Sometimes he could hear distant voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Other times he thought he could see the images of those that were speaking to him in his mind. But the images were blurred and hazy, and he wasn't sure who was speaking to him.

There were no dreams in this world, only blackness and agony. This was a different kind of pain, one that permeated his every thought and action, violating the sanctity of his sleep. There was no escaping the searing pain in his chest, the stabbing pains in his leg, or the burning heat within his flesh.

Then, at long last, the pain began to diminish. The tightness in his chest lessened, allowing him to breathe easier. He could feel the world of pain that had imprisoned him for so long beginning to fade. And as one world began to fade, another began to appear, a brighter world, one filled with hope and promise for a better tomorrow, and Scabior opened his eyes to the familiar world he'd left behind.

His surroundings were so dark that when he opened his eyes he wasn't sure if he was really awake. There was a small cluster of lit candles flickering on his desk, illuminating the room so that once his eyes became adjusted to the low light, he could see the figures of two people in the room with him. One of the people in the room with him was Lucius Malfoy, who was sitting at his desk. It quickly became apparent who the other person was, as she bent down and wrapped her arms around Scabior's upper body, hugging him and holding him tight.

"Violet?" Scabior croaked, his throat dry and his voice low and weak.

"Easy now, Violet," came Lucius' gentle voice from across the room. "Give him a minute to gather himself."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Violet reluctantly let go of the still dazed and exhausted Snatcher, and carefully lowered him back down onto the mound of pillows on the bed.

Lucius stood up and walked towards the bed. "How are you feeling, Scabior?"

"I've been better," Scabior replied in the same dry, hoarse tone. His throat was parched and sore. He went to lick his dry, chapped lips and found that he didn't have an ounce of saliva. "Water," he rasped.

Violet brought him a glass of water, then placed one hand behind Scabior's back, helping to ease him into a sitting position so he could drink. Scabior managed to sit up in bed, but not without feeling a sharp twinge of pain in his wounded leg as he shifted position on the mattress. He then allowed Violet to tip the contents of the glass down his throat before laying back down in bed.

He felt grateful for the cool drink. He'd never felt thirstier in his life, and he wished that Violet had allowed him to drink the entire glass of water instead of offering him a few sips. He was just about to ask for more when he noticed the fluids he drank beginning to swirl uncomfortably in his stomach. Scabior managed to keep the water down, but he felt horribly sick to his stomach.

Scabior groaned. "I feel ill."

"It's not surprising," said Lucius, taking hold of Scabior's wrist and checking his pulse. "After everything you've been through, you ought to consider yourself lucky that you're still alive and breathing."

Scabior's eyes narrowed as he glared at the hand holding his wrist. He didn't like it when Lucius started playing mediwitch with him. But since he knew Lucius was the one responsible for saving him life, he decided it was best to keep quiet about it for the time being.

Lucius cast a few basic diagnostic spells on him, and determined that Scabior was suffering from a mild case of dehydration. And although he was grateful for Lucius' help, Scabior quickly became annoyed when the blond aristocrat started treating him as though he were an invalid in St. Mungo's.

"Lucius, I - " Scabior began, but was cut off in mid-sentence when he started coughing again. His coughing only lasted a few seconds, and wasn't as severe as the fits he used to have a couple days ago. But it was enough to cause concern with Violet who thought he would have been over his coughing fits by now.

When Scabior stopped coughing, Lucius lit the tip of his wand and leaned over him in bed. "Open your mouth," he told Scabior.

"Wha for?" Scabior questioned irritably, eyeing the glowing tip of Lucius' wand.

"Please, Scabior, don't be difficult with me," Lucius sighed. "This will only take a minute."

"Fine," Scabior grumbled, and allowed the blond wizard a brief look inside his mouth.

Holding his wand aloft, Lucius positioned his wand so that the light shone directly into Scabior's mouth. He then saw that there were minute flecks of blood coating the back of Scabior's throat and tongue. Most of it was bright red, though some of it was considerably darker, indicating trace amounts of poison still lingering in his bloodstream. He also took a moment to examine the Snatcher's throat, noticing that it was quite red and irritated.

Lucius extinguished the light in his wand and took a step back from Scabior's bed. "There now. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Scabior frowned and held up the middle finger on his right hand.

Lucius turned to Violet and continued speaking as though he hadn't noticed Scabior's rude hand gesture. "Scabior is stil coughing up small amounts of blood. This should stop in a day or so as his body heals and the last of the poison fades from his system. He'll probably have a slight cough and a sore throat for a week or so while he recovers. But given enough time and rest, I believe he will make a full recovery."

"Lucius," Scabior began again. "While I am appreciative of your 'elp, I would appreciate it even more if you got out of my face for five minutes an stopped treating me like some kind of crippled weakling."

Scabior's attitude and tone of voice made it clear that he'd had enough of Lucius' mediwitch treatments for one day. Lucius didn't mind, though. The resurgence of Scabior's typical bad behavior meant that he was feeling more like himself again.

"I'll be outside if you need me," said Lucius. And with that he turned and exited the tent.

"Violet," said Scabior once Lucius had left. He gently patted the bed beside him. "Come 'ere, sweet'eart."

Violet walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down.

"Lie down," he said.

She lay down beside him.

"I'm so tired," he told her. "I feel like I've been drifting in some sort of 'ellish limbo these last few - " Scabior paused, looking somewhat confused, then he asked, "'Ow long 'ave I been out of it?"

"About a week now," Violet replied. "You've been sleeping for six days."

Scabior sighed heavily. "Wha time is it?"

"About an hour or two before dawn."

Scabior was quiet for a while as he lay on his side facing her. He thought about everything that had happened since he'd been attacked by Bellatrix, and realized that there was something missing.

"I don't remember anything after we entered that moldy 'ouse," he said.

Violet hesitated. It was painful for her to have to think about what had happened to him while they were imprisoned there. "You...you had a seizure," she said. "You were vomiting blood. Everyone thought that...we...we thought you were dead."

It came as a bit of a shock to hear this. He didn't realize that he had been so close to death. And if he'd been able to remember meeting his deceased brother, he would have known just how far gone he really was.

Violet reached towards him and smoothed several strands of his messy red and brown hair out of his face, then reached up and began combing her fingers through his hair. "Scabior," she said softly. "I thought I lost you. You gave me such a scare. Please, don't ever do that to me again."

Scabior couldn't help but smile a little. "Don't worry about it, pet. I don't intend on pulling a stunt like tha again anytime soon. But you should know better than to think I'd die tha easily."

Violet smiled back at him, her heart finally feeling at ease because she knew he was going to be alright. "I love you, Scabior," she softly whispered, feeling warm and content as she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

"I love you too, sweet'eart." He then slid one arm out from under the blankets, wrapped it around her waist, and the two of them drifted off to sleep together.


	21. Tears

When Scabior woke up a few hours later, he was still feeling nauseous and tired. And on top of everything else he also had a throbbing headache.

Lucius had instructed Violet to have Scabior drink small amounts of water throughout the day. But when she offered him a glass of water shortly after he woke up, Scabior got sick and threw up in the bucket Violet had set beside the bed for him.

"His stomach is empty, and he is sick from hunger," said Lucius. "What he needs is food to help settle his stomach."

"'Ow the bloody 'ell do you expect me to eat something?" Scabior groaned, his head still hung over the bucket in his lap. There was bile dripping from his lips and he was shaking slightly. Violet sat beside him on the bed, holding his hair back as he gagged and vomited into the bucket. The only thing he brought up was a bit of water mixed with greenish bile, but at least he had stopped vomiting blood.

"I'm going to have Silis make you some soup for breakfast," said Lucius. "If you don't get a decent meal in your stomach you're going to keep getting sick. In fact now that I think of it, you would probably benefit from taking a dose of the nutrient potion I gave you while you were asleep."

Scabior's fingers gripped the sides of the bucket as a long string of obscenities spilled from his lips. He was furious at being reduced to this, at being brought so low by Bellatrix Lestrange. It was like no matter what he did or where he went she was always there, tormenting him as she attempted to either kill him or ruin his life by murdering everyone that he cared about.

Violet looked at him with concern. "Scabior, are you alright?"

"Oh yes, pet," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Everything is just fucking lovely."

She could see that he was upset. And considering everything that had happened to him, he had every right to be. But when she tried to tell him it would be alright, he pushed her away and told her to leave him alone.

"I don't want you to see me like this," he spat out irritability. "It makes me feel..." His words trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.

"Scabior, you aren't weak," Violet insisted. She knew what this was about, and she refused to let him beat himself up over something that wasn't his fault. "You were poisoned. Poison kills even the strongest of men. It has nothing to do with being weak. And you're still alive so that has to count for something."

Her words seemed to calm him down and helped ease his mind, but he still wouldn't speak to her. All Scabior could think about was that it was Bellatrix who had done this to him. It had always been Bellatrix, taunting him, stalking him, haunting him like some kind of ghost or demon. She was always there, reminding him of his mistakes, reminding him of how he had failed.

A few minutes later Silis entered the room, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a few crackers.

"Sir, I have something here for you," he announced as he entered the room.

Scabior sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't know how he was supposed to eat anything while his insides were still squirming and twisting uncomfortably. What he felt was a strange mixture of wanting to eat but being concerned that he wouldn't be able to keep anything down. Still, he figured he should at least give it a try. He didn't make it this far just to die of thirst and starvation.

"Well?" said Scabior, sounding rather impatient. "Wha are you waiting for? Give it 'ere, Silis."

Silis hesitated. "Mr. Malfoy said you may need some assistance."

Scabior shot him a look of outrage. "'E thinks I'm incapable of feeding myself?!"

"Well, given your current condition, sir, he thought perhaps - "

"I SAID GIVE IT 'ERE!" Scabior shouted with as much strength as his tired body could muster.

Silis hurried to bring his master the tray, while Scabior struggled to ease himself into a sitting position in bed, and after a minute or two he finally managed to sit himself upright. Violet tucked her pillow behind Scabior's back to help prop him up, and Silis sat the tray on Scabior's lap.

Scabior raised a trembling hand and slowly dipped his spoon into the bowl of soup. The soup was nothing more than simple chicken broth with some dried herbs in it that would help soothe his upset stomach. He raised the spoon to his lips, and managed to eat without spilling any of the soup.

He paused, waiting to see if his insides were going to rebel against him. Nothing happened, so he ate a few more spoonfuls of soup then paused again, thinking his stomach might turn on him any minute now. He felt a mild wave of nausea pass over him, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Eating the soup was making Scabior feel better. He'd had nothing in his stomach for days, and the feel of the warm broth filling his belly was helping to quell the nausea he'd felt since waking up that morning.

He picked up one of the crackers, and dipped it into his soup to moisten it a little before eating it. He had difficulty swallowing the cracker when it was dry because he had little to no saliva from being dehydrated. So he simply dunked it in the soup until it was moist enough that he could chew and swallow it.

Violet watched Scabior while he ate. She was expecting him to get sick again, and was relieved when he managed to keep everything down.

"How are you feeling?" she asked once he had finished eating.

"Better," Scabior replied. He then handed the tray to Silis.

"Do you want anymore, sir?" asked Silis.

"No," Scabior whispered hoarsely, his blue-grey eyes half closed as he began to drift off to sleep. "I'm tired. I want to go to sleep."

It felt good to finally have some food in his belly. It warmed his insides, relaxing him and making him drowsy. It wasn't long until Scabior dozed off, sleeping peacefully and resting well now that he was finally beginning the long road to recovery.

\----------------

As the days slowly passed, Scabior continued to rest, eat and recover. He slept on and off throughout the day, sometimes napping for an hour or two, while other times he slept for several hours. Violet was there whenever he woke up, gently urging him to drink more water or eat some soup.

Scabior ate and drank, gradually regaining his strength as his appetite increased. He quickly progressed from chicken broth to chicken noodle soup, then to a thick, creamy potato soup with onions, herbs and garlic that Violet made for him.

When three days had passed, Scabior started demanding solid foods. It was a welcome sight to those around him because it meant the head Snatcher was feeling more like himself again. Silis started making him stew and the breakfast casserole his master liked, which consisted of rice, scrambled eggs, fried onions and bacon. When supplies ran low Lucius was kind enough to restock their food supplies, providing Scabior and his men with a wide variety of food to choose from that they didn't normally have.

Everything was going fine until Scabior began to complain that he was tired of sitting in bed all day. He wanted to go outside, breathe the fresh air and go for a walk in the woods. This was a good sign that his recovery was going well. But the gash on his leg was deep and hadn't healed yet. He could get out of bed for short periods of time, such as walking to the bathroom to relieve himself. But his injured leg hurt whenever he tried to walk, and Lucius knew that it was too soon for Scabior to try walking.

They couldn't use the essence of dittany to heal him, because according to Lucius the blade Bellatrix stabbed him with carried a curse which rendered the essence, as well as all types of healing charms, ueseless.

"A cursed blade?" said Violet.

"Damn bitch thinks of everything," Scabior grumbled. "It figures she'd use something like tha on me."

"We could try getting you a pair of crutches to help you walk," Lucius suggested.

Scabior was quick to shoot down that idea, using a wide range of colorful language to do so.

Lucius sighed and rolled his eyes. "If you refuse any sort of help, Scabior, then I'm afraid all we can do is wait until your leg is healed."

"Right. Well, we'll just see about tha, won't we?" said Scabior, glaring at Lucius as he spoke. "I don't care if I 'ave to get out of this fucking bed on my knees an crawl through the snow. I need to be outside in the open air, an I won't tolerate being stuck in bed any longer."

\----------------

When Scabior awoke early the next morning, the darkness of the previous night had not faded from the sky, and the first subtle hints of pre-dawn twilight were beginning to light the horizon. Violet was asleep in bed beside him. It would be a while before the others began to wake up.

He estimated that it was about an hour before dawn. Scabior pushed the covers back on his bed, slid his legs over the edge of the mattress, and placed his feet on the floor. His injured leg was still bandaged beneath his purple plaid pajama bottoms, and it hurt as he carefully attempted to stand.

He winced, drawing in a sharp breath between his teeth as he eased himself into a sitting position. Scabior shifted his weight onto his left leg, then reached for his jacket which was hanging on the bedpost beside his pillow. He decided not to bother getting dressed because he knew that he wouldn't be outside for long. The cold winter weather didn't bother him that much anyway. So he slipped his arms into his jacket, pulled the garment closed over his bare chest, and limped outside into the frosty February air.

Being a Snatcher for so many years had made Scabior immune to all forms of heat and cold. And while he disliked the hot summer months, he could tolerate them without complaint, and he could withstand the cold better than even the most well seasoned men in his group. He thought nothing of walking out barefoot into the snow, though he shivered slightly when a cold wind drifted past him, tugging lightly at the strands of his wild and unruly hair.

The clouds above were torn and drifting lazily past the bare branches of the trees. Between their thin, tattered forms a few stars shone within the fading halo of the night sky. A silver crescent moon winked at him from between the confines of the clouds and the silhouette of the branches surrounding it in the night.

Scabior inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh scent of the cold night air. It felt good to breathe in the crisp, clean forest air, and it felt even better to be able to breathe without coughing or feeling like his lungs were on fire with pain.

He watched the horizon slowly brighten as the clouds continued to drift past the waning moon. He let go of all his thoughts, taking in the quiet, undisturbed serenity of the early morning twilight. This was why he loved being a Snatcher, because it allowed him to get outside in nature and be at peace within the woods.

Out here he could free himself from all his troubles and worries. He could relax and let go of the past that weighed heavily on his mind and conscience. And yes, Scabior did have a conscience. Despite what others thought, he wasn't the heartless bastard they thought he was. He'd never meant for his life to become what it was, but he was in too deep to escape.

The world he lived in was wrought with misery and death, corruption and war. And when the final battle began, Scabior knew that he would inevitably be called to battle with his fellow Snatchers. It was inescapable. And every day the end was getting closer.

Would he be forgiven in the end if he were to die in battle? Would his crimes go unpunished if Voldemort perished and the ministry sought to capture and imprison all that had served him? How could he convince the world that this wasn't what he wanted? That he'd never meant to hurt so many people and destroy so many lives and families?

Sure, he was a bad boy at heart. He was stubborn, he had an attitude from hell and told it like it was without caring what others thought of him. He liked to steal and make his own path in life, taking what he wanted and doing what he pleased. But he was not a killer. He didn't take pleasure in torturing his victims, or hearing the anguished cries of those he snatched and brought into the ministry. Somewhere along the line he'd gone too far, and there was no turning back now. Not after everything he'd done.

Scabior heard the sound of softly crunching snow behind him, bringing him out of his meditations and drawing his attention. He turned around and saw Violet standing behind him.

Unlike Scabior, Violet had chosen to slip on a pair of shoes before walking outside. She was now standing in the snow behind him, wearing a long sleeved white shirt, a pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms, and had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders for warmth.

"Scabior," she said softly. "What're you doing out here?"

"I 'ad to get out of there, pet. I've spent far too much time in bed."

"Do you mind if I stay out here with you for a while?"

"No. But only if you don't try 'auling me back to bed."

Violet walked towards him and gently whispered, "What if I wanted to take you to bed for more pleasurable reasons?"

Scabior couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "I don't know, pet. I might not be able to refuse an offer like tha."

They stood together in the snow, watching the darkness fade as the day began. After several minutes passed, Violet broke the silence by finally asking Scabior the question that had been on her mind the last couple of days.

"Scabior, I hate to ask you this, but is it true that your parents died because Bellatrix killed them?"

Scabior's mouth dropped open as he looked at her with an expression of absolute shock on his face. "Who told you tha Bella killed my parents?" he demanded angrily.

"You did."

Scabior's mouth snapped shut, his pale, grey-blue eyes wide as he stared at her in disbelief. In the early morning twilight he looked like a wide-eyed owl peering out through the darkness.

"You were delirious because your temperature had risen so high," Violet explained. "Lucius said the fever had clouded your thoughts, and that you didn't know what you were saying. But you sounded so sad. There was real pain and grief in what you said. And I couldn't help but wonder if what you were talking about really happened."

For a long while Scabior didn't speak. He couldn't believe that he had accidentally let slip one of his most private secrets. He wondered what else he might have told her while he was ill and suffering from the effects of Bellatrix's poison.

"I...well..." He paused, hesitating as he fiddled nervously with the cuff of his jacket. Scabior didn't know if he could tell her what had happened. But he didn't want to lie to her. He finally decided that he would tell her the truth, but that he wouldn't tell her anymore than what she already knew. There was no need to tell her everything that Bellatrix had done, most of which she would probably figure out on her own the longer she stayed with him.

"Yes, pet," Scabior said, finally looking up at her. "Bellatrix murdered my family, including a younger brother I 'ad named Malchior. It 'appened back when the Dark Lord was trying to recruit me an 'ave me join 'is Death Eaters. You may remember me telling you 'ow the Dark Lord threatened to kill my family if I didn't join 'im. I became a Snatcher instead of a Death Eater. I did everything 'e asked me to, but 'e 'ad my family killed anyway. An the person 'e sent to murder them was Bellatrix.

"I tried to save them, pet. 'Onestly, I did. When I 'eard about wha was going to 'appen, I rushed 'ome as fast as I could. But I was too late. When I arrived, my parents were lying there on the floor, their blood soaking into the carpet an dripping from the walls. The only one left was Malchior. 'E was still alive, but Bellatrix was 'olding 'im captive. I tried persuading 'er to let 'im go...she 'ad 'er arm around 'im an was 'olding 'er wand against 'is throat...said she'd kill 'im if I took a step towards 'er. But Bellatrix is completely mad. There was no reasoning with 'er. She killed my little brother right in front of me...slit 'is throat with a cutting 'ex an watched 'im bleed."

It was here that Scabior paused, his voice too choked with emotion to speak. "She laughed while she did it," he said at length, when he finally regained the use of his voice. "She laughed like it was some kind of joke! I attacked 'er, but I was too pissed to see straight. She..." He stopped, pausing even longer this time as it became increasingly difficult for him to speak.

A well of anger, guilt and grief was forming a tight knot in his throat as he remembered everything he'd gone through the night his family had been murdered. It pained him to speak of it, but what hurt even worse was the fact that he'd been unable to save his family.

"She did terrible things to me," Scabior continued. He swallowed hard, trying to push the uncomfortable knot down his throat so he could continue speaking. "I won't go into the details. You probably don't want to 'ear them anyway. But she refused to kill me, saying tha death would be too merciful. She wanted me to live with the memories of wha she 'ad done so tha she could watch me suffer, always there, always laughing in my face."

Violet put her arm around him, holding him close in the dim light of the cold morning. She could see in the growing light that his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry, Scabior," she said softly.

"Don't be." He brushed her arm away. "I don't want your sympathy."

Violet didn't know what to say to him. The cold winter winds blew, the first light of the morning sun crept above the distant hilltops, painting the sky with pale shades of creamy yellow, faded blue and dusky pink hues. And as Scabior gazed silently at her in twilight of dawn, a single tear spilled from the corner of his eye and slowly trickled down his cheek.

"Come on, Scabior." Violet took him by the hand. "You wanted to go for a walk outside, right? Well, come on then. Let's go for a walk together."

Scabior said nothing, but decided to walk with her anyway, thinking it might help clear his mind. And together they walked off into the forest, side by side and hand in hand.


	22. Another Side Of Me

Scabior didn't make it far on his wounded leg. The pain he felt when walking was a deep, piercing pain that stabbed him with every step he took. It would be another week before he was able to walk without limping, and a week after that before he was fully healed. But Scabior was glad to get out of bed after being laid up for so long. It felt good to be outside again. And although he expected Violet to insist that he return to bed, he was grateful when she decided to take his hand and walk with him instead.

Violet was going to try convincing him to go back to bed. But after hearing him recall the horrors of his past in vivid, gruesome detail, she decided that if would be better if he took a walk to clear his head after what they'd just discussed.

She didn't know how else to help him. She didn't know what to say that might make him feel better. She wanted to comfort him, but Scabior wasn't the type of man who liked being held while crying in someone's arms. He was strong, and preferred to battle his demons on his own.

On his own, but not completely alone. He wasn't against having someone with him when things got difficult, a silent but reassuring companion so he didn't feel forgotten, abandoned, and despised by all around him, as was often the case since he'd taken the position of head Snatcher. He let Violet stay with him, and in his heart he was grateful that she was there for him.

She was exactly what he needed. Her presence, her love for him, it was enough. No matter what happened to him, no matter what life threw at him, as long as she was there, as long as he could hear her voice, feel her lying next to him in bed, and look into her eyes each night before they fell asleep, he would be alright. As long as she loved him he would be fine, and she felt the same way about him.

Upon returning from his walk in the woods, Scabior decided that he was feeling well enough to move their camp to a new location. Some of his men questioned his decision, thinking that now wasn't the best time for them to leave.

They could see the way Scabior struggled to walk, the pained expression on his face as each step sent a fresh wave of pain surging through his muscles. Lucius Malfoy was against the idea of moving camp, and unlike Scabior's men he came forward to address the situation, voicing his concerns directly to the head Snatcher.

"We 'ave to leave," Scabior said, pausing briefly as he started coughing again. "It's a miracle tha bastard 'asn't come looking for us yet, an we can't push our luck by staying 'ere any longer. We need to leave before he returns."

Lucius knew there was no arguing with him once the Snatcher had made up his mind. "Fine then," he said. "I'll stay here until after the move. If everything goes well, I shall be leaving shortly afterwards since you are no longer in need of my services."

Scabior couldn't help but notice Lucius' stiff, dry tone when he spoke. He was thoroughly displeased with Scabior's course of action, but knew that there was nothing he could do to stop him or make him change his mind.

"No, you're not leaving yet," said Scabior. "Not before I give you something."

The blond aristocrat blinked his cold grey eyes in surprise. "And what would that be?"

"My thanks, of course. You've done a lot for me. An, like I said before, I am most appreciative of your 'elp, Lucius. This is the second time now tha you've saved my arse from dying. Without you I would 'ave died in a cell in Azkaban years ago, an now you've come through for me again. So I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for me."

"And you choose to reward my efforts by doing something that will risk the safety of your health and well being."

"Do you see tha I 'ave any other choice?" Scabior asked. "Every minute tha we stay 'ere puts them at risk. I can't let anything 'appen to them, an I can't let anything 'appen to Violet. 'Er 'ealth an safety mean more to me than my own. I'd rather go now an know tha she'll be safe than wonder if she'll be snatched the moment my back is turned."

"You could stay in my home until you are fully hScabior," Lucius suggested.

"Thank you, Lucius. But my place is out 'ere in the wilderness," said Scabior, politely declining Lucius' offer. "This is my 'ome. This is where I belong, an this is where I'm staying."

The Snatchers put away their tents and packed up their belongings. Violet and Ranca helped pack Scabior's things so the head Snatcher wouldn't have the extra work to do while he was still recovering from his injuries. Their assistance wasn't necessary, though, because everything they owned was put away with magic. But since they insisted on doing the work for him, Scabior let them do it while he stood back and watched everyone pack up their belongings.

While the others were putting everything away, Scabior sat down on a log in the corner of the campsite, and began finishing off the last of a bottle of firewhiskey. When he emptied the bottle, he muttered a brief incantation and tapped the bottle with his wand, causing it to glow with a faint blue light.

When everyone had finished putting everything away, Scabior called them to him and explained that they would be traveling to their destination by portkey.

"A portkey won't leave behind traces of magic for anyone to follow," Scabior told them. "Once the portkey is used the magic is gone. So even if anyone does turn up 'ere, they shouldn't be able to follow us."

Lucius couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Scabior using an empty bottle of booze to make a portkey.

"Everyone ready?" Scabior asked.

There were murmurs and nods from everyone around him.

"Alright then. You all know wha to do. So grab on an let's be on our way."

\-----------------

The new location Scabior took them too was in a low valley on a mountainside. There were only a few areas of level ground suitable for setting up camp, with several trees and bushes covering the surrounding hillside. A small stream trickled downhill with clusters of blackberry and mint growing near the water's edge, and the air around the stream smelled strongly of mint.

As they arrived at their destination, the jolt of hitting the ground as they landed sent a fresh wave of pain surging through Scabior's injured leg. The head Snatcher felt his knees buckle and he fell forward, landing atop poor little Jeremy and flattening the young wizard.

"Master, are you alright?" Ranca asked, stooping to help his master up.

Scabior shoved Ranca aside, trying his best to maintain his dignity. He struggled for a moment before finally managing to push himself off Jeremy and back onto his feet, his legs trembling ever so slightly as he stood up.

The head Snatcher dusted himself off and smoothed out his jacket. His injured leg was throbbing with horrible pain, but he kept his head down and tried not to show that he was in pain.

"Well? Wha are you all standing around for?" Scabior spat. "You want to get camp set up before nightfall, don't you? Or per'aps you fancy the thought of sleeping on the rocks instead?"

The Snatchers could see that their leader was in no mood to be questioned about his health, so they kept their heads down, their mouths shut, and began clearing away the rocks and fallen branches in the surrounding area so they could make camp. Meanwhile Scabior limped downhill towards the stream, telling them that he was going to scout around a bit.

Lucius and Violet exchanged worried glances as Scabior limped down the slope and off into the bushes.

"Stay here," Violet told Lucius. "I'll go check on him."

\-----------------

Scabior knew exactly where he was going as he made his way downhill, clinging to the jutting rocks and the sides of trees to avoid slipping and falling.

He made his way down to the stream that flowed through the snow covered hillside. Since it was now late February, there were snowdrops poking through the frozen earth, dottng the area in beautiful shades of green and white. He'd been here before, and was pleased to see that everything still looked as beautiful as it did the last time he was here.

As he was sitting down on some smooth, dry rocks at the water's edge, he noticed a slight dampness seeping through the material on his right leg. He cursed under his breath and unbuckled his studded belt, then carefully slid his tight pants down his legs.

He was bleeding. The wound in his right thigh had reopened during his fall, and was now staining the bandages with bright red splotches.

Still swearing as he grit his teeth against the pain in his thigh, Scabior unwound the soiled bandages and tossed them in the stream where they were carried away with the current. He didn't know that Violet was watching him from a distance.

Scabior tried using a healing spell on the gash in his leg. Lucius told him that wouldn't work, because only the healing charm Bellatrix made would work due to the nature of the poison and the cursed blade she stabbed him with. But Scabior wanted to try anyway, and found that his magic had no effect on his wound.

Furious with himself and the situation he was in, Scabior picked up a rock and hurled it at a small sapling. His aim was good, and the sapling was snapped clean in two. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something to vent his anger and frustration. He was so sick of this, of Bellatrix always being there and making his life into a living hell. He'd kill her himself if he could. But the Dark Lord wouldn't be very happy with him if he found out that Scabior had murdered one of his Death Eaters.

As Violet watched him pick up another rock and throw it into the stream with a resounding splash, a strange feeling arose in her that she had never felt before. She was angry, more so than she had ever been before. Bellatrix hurt Scabior. She had murdered his entire family and tried to kill him as well. And when Violet's love for Scabior mingled with her growing hatred of Bellatrix, it began to take her mind down a dark path it had never been down before.

Scabior suddenly cried out in pain. He held his leg, and drops of blood fell into the stream, swirling beneath him like crimson ribbons on the surface of the water. He quickly conjured a roll of bandages, wrapped them around his leg, and applied pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.

That was when Violet decided to find Bellatrix. She would hunt her down if she had to. And when she found her, she was going to kill her. Bellatrix Lestrange had hurt Scabior for the last time. This was where it ended.

Fortunately for Scabior he was able to stop the bleeding within a couple of seconds. He wrapped a second layer of bandages around his leg so he wouldn't bleed through them so easily if his wound reopened again, used a charm to clean the blood off his pants, hoisted his trousers and prepared to head back to camp, completely unaware of the murderous plans now fermenting in Violet's mind.

\---------------

Time passed. The days began to lengthen as winter faded into spring. The snow and icicles that clung to the bare branches of the trees slowly began to melt, as clusters of snowdrops blossomed in the layer of snow and frost on the ground.

Scabior recovered slowly but surely. He was unable to go snatching while his injured leg healed, so he sent Ranca, Silis and Jeremy to do the snatching for him. He hated having to stay behind at camp, be he knew there was no way he could go running through the woods with a knife wound to his right leg.

During his recovery, Scabior spent a lot of time with Violet down by the stream. There were times they'd spend hours outside, talking and enjoying the warmth in the air as the seasons began to change.

Violet couldn't believe that it was almost spring already. Had she really spent the past six and a half months living with Scabior? She remembered when they first met and Scabior had held her prisoner. She hated him then. But in the blink of an eye the months had flown past, and what began as an intense anger and hatred towards the wizard who had captured her had changed into love and passion.

She couldn't imagine her life without him. But how did this happen? How did she come to love the man whom she despised with every fiber of her being? The answer, Violet realized, didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that Scabior was here, and that he loved her.

Looking down at her reflection on the water, Violet realized something else. She realized that she had changed. Being around Scabior had given her an increased sense of self-worth and confidence. Being loved by him made her feel as though she weren't completely worthless after all. He loved her, so she had to be worth loving, right? Maybe. She honestly felt as though she didn't deserve him, and she told him that, and every time she did Scabior was quick to disagree with her.

"You're beau'iful in your own way, love," he told her, sitting beside her near the water's edge. He slowly ran his fingers down her cheek as he spoke, then cupped her chin, lifting her head so that they were gazing into each other's eyes. "You're not perfect, but neither am I. We weren't born to be perfect. We were born to be real. An real life means 'aving flaws an making mistakes. But tha doesn't mean people won't love you for who you are."

His words warmed her heart and made her smile. No one had ever told her anything like that before. She always thought that she was never good enough, that no one would ever want her unless she was thinner, prettier, or smarter. But here was someone who knew she wasn't perfect, that she was real, and loved her for being who she was.

She was also becoming more confident in her magical abilities. Scabior was still letting her join him and his men from time to time when they went out. He paired her with Jeremy, who was almost as inexperienced as she was, and let them work together, giving them simple tasks they could accomplish as a team. The two of them soon became friends, as they worked together, learning and growing from their experiences.

It was then that Violet realized that the Snatcher's weren't the vile, ruthless murderers everyone thought they were. Some of them were rather nice and were open to making friends. There was a close bond between Jeremy and his older cousin Ranca. Violet actually mistook them for brothers until Scabior told her otherwise. The only ones that were any trouble were Morvin and Greyback, and Morvin had left the group a long time ago.

Most of the Snatchers were like Scabior. They were outcasts, doing what they could to get by in a broken world that was on the brink of war. They were like a family. And Violet wanted to be part of that family. Violet wanted to be a Snatcher.

"Scabior," she said, lifting her head and letting her gaze drift from her reflection on the water to the trees above.

"Hmm?" Scabior was sitting next to her, weaving his long hair into a loosely braided ponytail.

"I want to be a Snatcher."

"Wha?" Scabior's kohl lined eyes widened as he looked at her, the hair he was braiding slipping from his fingers and falling back into place around his shoulders.

Violet nervously bit her bottom lip.

"You want to be a Snatcher?" Scabior asked. "A Snatcher? Like me?"

"Yes, I do," said Violet. "I'm practically one already. You let me go out with Jeremy, and we've gotten good at working together. We steal food and raid towns for supplies, and I've gotten pretty good and picking up a few other things along the way. Last week I stole a silver bracelet with rose quartz beads."

"No," said Scabior, frowning at her. "You are nothing like us. You aren't like me, you aven't been in prison like I was, an I intend on keeping it tha way. I don't want you to become a criminal with a prison record tha's a mile long."

"But Scabior - "

"I said no, pet. It's one thing to steal food because we're running low on supplies, or to take someone's bracelet because you thought it looked nice an wanted it for yourself. But I will not allow you to lower yourself - to sink to my level - of kidnapping innocent people!"

Scabior stood up, his pale, blue-grey eyes burning with a combination of anger and regret. "Do you think I'm proud of wha I've become? Do you think I enjoy 'urting the people I snatch? Because I don't, pet. This isn't the life I wanted for myself. I do this because I'm in too deep to escape, because it's all I can do to survive, an I refuse to drag you down into this with me."

Violet scoffed at the notion of him dragging her down with him.

"You wouldn't be dragging me down with you," she said. "If anything you'd be helping me by teaching me how to duel and track people."

However there was more to her wanting to be a Snatcher than just wanting to be a full fledged member of their family. She wanted to learn tracking, dueling and snatching so she could hunt down Bellatrix and make her pay for everything she'd done to Scabior. She wanted Bellatrix to suffer for hurting him and destroying his family.

There was no leading her down the wrong path by allowing her to become a Snatcher. Violet had already begun that journey on her own, and chances were she was going to continue down that path with or without Scabior's help.

"If you want to learn dueling an tracking, I can teach you 'ow to do tha without 'aving you snatch people," said Scabior.

"But how will I be able to practice what I've learned if I'm not out in the field tracking muggleborns?" Violet persisted.

"You can practice on me," said Scabior, and his tone made it clear that his decision was final. "I don't mind giving you lessons. I'd be 'appy to work with you an teach you wha I know. An, might I add, you'd be learning from the best, love," he added with a smirk. "But I will not corrupt you by allowing you to become a Snatcher."

What Scabior didn't realize was that the sly, conniving innerworkings of Violet's mind were already in motion. She had an outward appearance of being innocent and quiet, a young witch with little faith or confidence in herself, and for the most part that was really who she was. But things were changing. She was changing. She was learning and growing from her experiences, and these changes were bringing forth a darker, stronger version of herself that had been dormant for most of her life.

Whenever someone she loved was hurt or threatened, it brought out Violet's true nature, revealing her hidden darkness and inner strength. The last time this happened someone had threatened her sister, causing Violet to unleash a curse on Heather's foe that left her target's mid severely addled for several days, causing her victim to suffer from persistent nightmares, confusion and paranoia.

There was a darker side to Violet. She could fight if she had to. She just needed the right motivation to spur her into action. And what Bellatrix had done to Scabior had been enough to awaken the other side of her.

She would let Scabior teach her how to duel and track people. Then she could use what she'd learned to prove to him that she could be a Snatcher by stepping in and helping him catch one of their target muggleborns. All she had to do was wait for the opportunity to present itself.

If everything went according to Violet's plan, she could become a Snatcher and gain the necessary skills needed to have her revenge on Bellatrix. But there was a serious flaw in her plan, one that could potentially bring about disastrous consequences. Because even if Violet were to learn how to fight, her level of skill was no where near what she needed to take down Bellatrix Lestrange.

Violet had no idea what she was up against, and if she were to follow through with her plan and fight Bellatrix, the decision to do so could cost her dearly in the end.


	23. Snatch Me If You Can

The weather warmed and the days grew longer as March gradually faded into April. Scabior started teaching Violet some of the finer points of tracking and dueling, training with her a few hours each day. Once she started getting good at the basics, Scabior decided to let her practice by dueling Jeremy.

"I thought you said I'd be dueling you," said Violet when she found out that Jeremy would be her sparring partner.

"I see no reason why the two of you can't train together," said Scabior. "You're both beginners, an Jeremy is only a little better than you are. So, the way I see things, if I can train two of the people in my group at the same time, then I will."

"But I'm not a Snatcher. I'd like to be, but you won't let me."

"It doesn't matter," Scabior said, dismissing her comment with a wave of his hand. He then turned and started heading back to his tent. "As long as you're 'ere with me, you will follow my orders an do as I say, just like everyone else 'ere."

"But that's not fair!" Violet shot back angrily. "You let me work for you and consider me a member of the group, and yet you won't let me snatch anyone?"

Scabior stopped, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her over his shoulder. "I don't give a damn about wha you think is fair. I told you tha you are not allowed to snatch people. I will not 'ave you lowering yourself to my standards. An tha is final."

Violet was furious, but kept her mouth shut as she watched him walk away. She knew there was no point in arguing with him, and that she ought to be grateful he had allowed her to train with someone. The only thing she could do was wait for the opportunity to prove herself.

\-----------------

The opportunity Violet was waiting for arrived in April. The weather was warming up nicely. And despite the few rain showers that passed through the area, you could tell that spring had finally arrived.

Scabior, Violet and the Snatchers were out in the woods. They were following the trail of one of Scabior's recent targets. Normally Scabior would have left Violet behind at camp. But since he had decided to let her learn tracking and dueling, Scabior thought that she would benefit from seeing first hand how things were done. However they weren't expecting a group of three teenagers to appear and interrupt their search.

Scabior immediately flung his arm out to halt the progress of the men behind him. He could see the three teenagers in the distance, two males and one female, standing a couple yards away on the slope of a densely wooded hillside.

"Be quiet," Scabior hissed. "Get into position. Now!"

The Snatchers were quick to follow their master's orders, and scurried off to hide in various places in the surrounding woods.

Violet stayed beside Scabior. "What do I do?" she asked.

"Stay 'ere," said Scabior, now silently beginning to creep forward. "Do not interfere. I'll come back for you later, pet."

Violet frowned, staying put as she watched Scabior continue moving forward. It was now or never. This was her only chance to prove that she was worthy of being a Snatcher.

Drawing her wand, Violet leaned back against the nearest tree to watch the events unfold. She had to wait for just the right moment before she could join in the hunt. For once Scabior was involved in the chase, he would be too preoccupied to stop her. However, the moment she'd been waiting for came too quickly, taking her by surprise as she was left in the dust when Scabior and his men suddenly shot off through the woods.

Scabior took off like a bolt of lightning. Violet didn't even see where he went. The best she could do was try to keep the rest of the Snatchers in view as she struggled to keep up with them. She had no idea where Scabior went. But judging by the shouts and explosions coming from somewhere up ahead, he had to be somewhere nearby.

It was then that she noticed that one of the boys they were chasing was lagging behind. The girl seemed to be making an effort to protect him, and fired a hex in the direction of Jeremy and Silis that exploded when it struck the earth, distracting the pair of Snatchers long enough for the boy with the short, messy red hair to flee in another direction.

'He looks like an easier target than the others,' Violet thought, racing after the red haired boy. Silis and Jeremy only had a second to register what was happening as they looked up and saw Violet running past them.

Violet's mind was racing as fast as her heart as she tried to remember the incantation Scabior taught her for conjuring chains. She'd seen him do it a couple times as they practiced ensaring the trunk of a tree from twenty feet away. But that was different. Trees didn't count as moving targets, and she didn't have Scabior around to correct her when she made a mistake.

The pureblood witch tried shouting what she hoped was the correct incantation as she flicked her wand towards her intended target. It worked. Violet was able to successfully conjure a length of silver chain, which missed its target and wound itself around a nearby tree. Great. At least Scabior had managed to teach her how to snatch trees. The next time he needed a few logs rounded up he'd know who to call.

Violet swore under her breath as she sprinted downhill. She tried conjuring a second batch of chains, and failed miserably as she missed her target by a good fifteen feet.

Now she was pissed. This boy was obviously the weakling in the group, and yet she couldn't seem to snatch him. And try as she might, she couldn't seem to close the gap between them. He kept getting farther and farther away, her attacks missing as she tried ensnaring him again and again.

Furious and frustrated, Violet put on an extra burst of speed, running full tilt down the hill as she tried one last time to catch the red haired teen, and was rewarded with a grunt followed by a dull thud as the chains she'd conjured wrapped around the boy's legs, tripping him and causing him to roll the rest of the way downhill.

Success! Now Scabior would see that she was just as good as the rest of his men. There was only one problem - her target was still wriggling and trying to crawl across the ground in a desperate attempt to escape.

"Hermione!" the red haired teen shouted, clawing his way across the earth, dragging his legs behind him in the dirt.

It was then that the dark side of Violet awoke, rearing up like some fierce animal inside of her. She wasn't skilled in the art of dueling. She didn't even know that many hexes or curses yet. But there was still one old fashioned way of subduing her enemies that she could rely on.

\--------------------

"Violet!" Scabior called out, searching the forest for his lost witch. He told her to stay put. Why the did she leave when he gave her strict orders to stay where she was? She did leave of her own accord, didn't she? Or did Freeman sneak in and kidnap her the moment his back was turned?

"Violet!" Scabior shouted again, his voice betraying him as he tried to stay calm.

It was clear that he was worried about her. For all he knew she could have been captured by Freeman, or worse. He never should have left her alone in the woods. And he mentally kicked himself for not sending her back to camp before he left.

"Over here!" Violet hollared, waving one hand in the air to draw his attention to her.

Scabior's head turned in the direction of her voice, and he immediately shot off through the forest. He ran until he reached a small clearing at the bottom of a hill. There was Violet, sitting on the bruised and bloody form of Ron Weasley as he lay sprawled on his face in the dirt.

Violet smiled pleasantly at Scabior as the head Snatcher made his way down the slope, his mouth opening in shock when he saw what she had done.

"Hi, Scabior!" Violet chirpped, still smiling at him.

"Wha 'ave you done?" Scabior gasped, staring down at the boy beneath her. It looked as though Violet had given Ron a thorough beating until he was too bruised and battered to move.

"Oh, you mean this!" Violet said casually. "Well, I saw that he was getting away, and I thought I'd go after him and snatch him. Though I'll admit most of his bruises were from when he fell down the hill. But I caught him and smacked him around a bit until he quieted down."

Scabior walked over to Ron's prone form and nudged him with the toe of his boot. "Is 'e even conscious, pet?" A few seconds later he heard Ron groan, and saw him shift slightly beneath Violet's weight.

For the time being Scabior was too surprised by her actions to reprimand her. He also had more pressing matters at hand, for he had discovered that one of the three teens he'd snatched was Harry Potter. He decided to take Ron, Harry and Hermione to Malfoy Manor at once. He'd deal with Violet later after he finished handing Potter over to the Dark Lord.

When Scabior, Violet and the Snatchers arrived at Malfoy Manor with Harry Potter and his two friends in tow, Narcissa met them at the front gate and let them in. She led them down the hall into the drawing room, where Lucius stood next to the fireplace, his son Draco seated next to him in an overstuffed armchair by the fireplace.

Lucius was looking more tired and haggard than usual. His clothes, which were normally neat, clean and pressed were wrinkled and dirty. His hair hung in limp, unkempt strands about his face and shoulders, and there was a thin layer of stubble on his face. The stress and strain of the impending war was taking its toll on Lucius, as was the constant worry about what would happen to his family should he fail to bring them back in good standings with the Dark Lord.

Scabior approached Lucius as he stood by the fireplace, eyeing the group of teenagers the Snatchers had brought into his home.

"We got 'im," Scabior said. "We got Potter."

Lucius' tired eyes widened as he turned his gaze towards the head Snatcher. "Are you sure it's him?"

"Well..." Scabior combed his fingers through his red streaked hair, hesitating before he spoke. "About as certain as I can be considering the fact tha 'is face currently resembles a bloated marshmallow. But I am fairly certain it's 'im. If I wasn't, then I wouldn't 'ave gone through all the trouble of bringing 'im 'ere."

Lucius looked puzzled. "Marshmallow?"

Scabior motioned towards the trio that was currently being held in check by Greyback, Ranca and Jeremy. "Go 'ave a look at 'im. You'll see wha I mean when you get close to 'im."

The blond aristocrat walked up to Harry Potter, then proceeded to move in a slow circle around the boy, taking in the features of his face that were now marred by the effects of the hex Hermione had used on him.

"He does look familiar," Lucius said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Draco," he called out suddenly. "Come here a moment. If anyone can correctly determine his identity it'll be you."

In Lucius' mind this boy with the puffy marshmallow face was in fact Harry Potter, and a triumphant smirk creased the corners of his lips, for he knew what handing Harry over to the Dark Lord would mean for him and his family. But he was nervous. After his botched attempt at retrieving the prophecy which resulted in his imprisonment in Azkaban, Lucius knew that he couldn't risk making anymore mistakes. He had to be one hundred percent sure, because a mistake now could cost him dearly.

"You do know what this means, don't you?" Lucius said, his hands trembling with nervous anxiety as he placed them on Draco's shoulders and steered him towards Harry Potter. "If we were to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, we would all be forgiven. Everything would be as it was. Do you understand?"

Draco swallowed hard and nodded. Great, just what the stressed out, frightened teenager needed. More pressure and tension heaped on his shoulders.

"'Ang on a second," said Scabior. "We won't be forgetting who brought 'im in, will we, Lucius?"

Lucius ground his teeth together at the sound of Scabior's words, his already frayed nerves causing him to snap at his friend as he barked out angrily, "How dare you talk to me like that in my own house?!"

"Lucius!" Narcissa hissed from behind her husband.

"I'm sorry," Lucius muttered, hanging his head as his wife took him by the hand an led him over to the couch. Lucius all but collapsed onto the couch, wringing his hands in nervous anticipation as he watched his boy from a distance.

"Forgive him," Narcissa said, glancing over her shoulder at Scabior. She took Lucius' hand in both of hers, holding him tight in an effort to calm her husband. "Lucius has been under a lot of stress lately. He didn't mean to lash out at you like that, Scabior."

Scabior's brow furrowed with concern as he looked at the blond wizard sitting on the sofa. He was just about to ask if there was anything he could do when a familiar screech rent the air.

The head Snatcher spun around to see Bellatrix standing in the doorway. He was instantly on guard, drawing his wand and preparing to defend himself. He seized Violet by the hand and pulled her behind him. Scabior expected Bellatrix to come at him and attack, but it seemed as though her attention was focused elsewhere.

"Where did you get that?" Bellatrix shrieked, practically spitting with rage as she pointed at the sword Silis was holding.

"We found it on them when we searched them," said Silis, studying the rubies that covered the sword's handle. "I reckon its mine now."

Bellatrix's gaze darkened as a dangerous glint flashed in her eyes. In a flash Silis was sent soaring through the air. He sailed backwards, striking the wall some twenty feet behind him as Bellatrix summoned the sword towards her, catching it in her left hand.

With a howl of rage Greyback charged towards her, only to come to an abrupt halt when she flicked her wand at him and conjured a live snake that hissed and coiled itself around his neck.

"Are you mad?!" Scabior shouted at the psychotic witch.

"You!" Bellatrix looked at Scabior with her eyes blazing. "How is it that you're still alive?"

"'Tha's none of your business, you miserable bitch!" Scabior spat. "Now why don't you go merrily fuck off an leave me alone?"

Bellatrix turned on him in an instant, conjuring a long, black whip from the tip of her wand that wrapped itself around Scabior's neck like a noose. Scabior gasped and struggled for breath, but the whip around his neck made it impossible for him to breathe. The next thing he knew he was lifted off his feet and corkscrewed through the air. Bellatrix slammed him down hard, causing his head to strike the floor as he made contact with the ground.

She was screaming at him, but Scabior couldn't make out what she was saying. The blow to his head coupled with the lack of oxygen was making his sight swim. The edges of his vision darkened, a blurred figure ran past, and Bellatrix' earsplitting screech of a voice could be heard mingling with the screams of another.

The whip slipped from around Scabior's neck, and as the head Snatcher struggled to stand, stumbling as he took several deep breaths to quell the dizziness he felt upon standing, Scabior felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach as he looked up and saw Violet running towards Bellatrix.

For a single second that seemed suspended in time, Scabior was unable to move. He stood, frozen in horror as he watched Violet continue her mad dash towards her death. The sound around him was muffled, drowned out by the pounding of his heart and the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The scene before him played out in slow motion as Bellatrix screamed, as Violet drew her wand, as the killing curse formed on Bellatrix's lips.

Scabior screamed and lunged forward, pouncing on Violet and knocking her to the ground. A brilliant flash of green light lit the room as Scabior and Violet rolled across the floor, the Snatcher's body pressed against hers as they came to a halt, flattening her to the floor as the green flare of light shot past them, missing them by a hairbreadth.

Bellatrix's death curse struck the wall above the fireplace, sending mortar and bricks flying as an explosion of dust and debris was sent rocketing out in all directions.

"Wha the 'ell are you doing?" Scabior shouted at Violet over the noise of the explosion. "You could 'ave gotten yourself killed!"

Before Violet had a chance to speak, she was hauled up onto her feet as Scabior grabbed her by the wrist and ran with her out of the room. They were closely followed by the rest of the Snatchers as Scabior fled Malfoy Manor before Bellatrix could murder anyone else he cared about.

Scabior didn't stop running until they were outside Malfoy Manor and beyond the gates. He didn't cares about leaving the Golden Trio behind. Let Lucius and the others deal with them. All he cared about was putting as much distance between them and Bellatrix as possible.

Once they were beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor, Scabior told the others that it was time they went back to camp.

"But sir, what about Potter and the others?" asked Ranca.

"They're where they're supposed to be," said Scabior, his irritated tone indicating that he had little patience at the moment. "We brought them to Lucius an 'e can deliver them to the Dark Lord. Tha is if Bellabitch doesn't accidentally kill them during 'er little flip out." He turned to Violet and touched his fingers to the side of her face, running them down her cheek as if checking to make sure that she was still there and in one piece.

He studied her for a moment then said, "Come on, love. Let's go 'ome. I can't relax until you're away from 'ere. I never should 'ave brought you 'ere in the place."

\------------------

Once they were back at their campsite, the first thing Scabior did was march right into his tent, reach for the nearest bottle of firewhiskey, plop down on the foot of his bed and start drinking.

He could still see Violet running towards Bellatrix, the curse forming on her lips as she prepared to fight the mad Death Eater. His hands were shaking as he raised the bottle to his lips and took another drink. If he lost her, if she died the way everything else he loved did, he didn't know what he would do. He'd probably get so drunk he couldn't think straight, then pick a fight with Bellatrix and end up getting himself killed in the process.

Violet stood a few feet away from him, watching as Scabior proceeded to guzzle nearly half a bottle of firewhiskey in a matter of seconds.

"Wha were you doing?" he asked, pausing between drinks so he didn't drown himself in alcohol. "Why did you attack 'er?"

"I did it because she attacked you," Violet replied. "She hurt you, and I wasn't going to let her get away with it."

"An you don't think it wouldn't 'urt me worse if she killed you?"

Violet hung her head, looking down at the floor as Scabior took another drink from his bottle. She felt ashamed of herself, and finally realized how stupid it was for her to take on a mad witch such as Bellatrix who had far more strength and experience than she had.

"You're everything to me, pet," Scabior continued. "You're all I 'ave left. You can't just go running off after everyone who 'exes or curses me. I've been 'urt several times in my life. But the worst pain I've felt didn't come from physical injuries. It came from losing people tha I cared about. An if you really loved me, you wouldn't go throwing yourself in front people like 'er who could easily kill you."

"I'm sorry, Scabior," Violet apologized. "But when I saw her strangling you and slamming you onto the floor, I couldn't just stand there and watch her treat you like that. She practically bashed your brains out on the floor."

Scabior reached up and felt the swollen lump on the back of his head. "It's just a small bump, sweet'eart. I've 'ad everything from broken bones to a concussion, an I survived all of it without your 'elp."

"And how many of your injuries were caused by Bellatrix?"

"Tha is irrelevant. The point is I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I don't want you risking your life to protect me, an I don't need your protection."

Violet sighed and sat down on the bed beside him. She knew there was no point in arguing with him, and the scene dissolved into silence as Scabior continued to drink and Violet gazed down at the floor.

"You really do mean a lot to me," said Scabior. He set the bottle down on the floor beside the bed, then turned to her and lightly brushed the hair out of her face.

When his fingers reached the back of her head, he cupped her head with one hand and leaned forward, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"You're the first person outside of my own family tha I'm willing to love unconditionally with all my 'eart," he softly murmured, touching his forehead to hers as he closed his eyes and held her close.

With his left hand behind her head and his right hand embracing her, Scabior kissed her lips, deepening the kiss when she responded by kissing him back.

"I almost lost you," he said when they finally came apart, his breathing slightly uneven. "Don't you ever do anything like tha again. You're going to 'ave to learn to control tha rash, impulsive be'avior of yours if you want to be a Snatcher."

"But you won't let me be a Snatcher," she reminded him.

"Yes, about tha..." Scabior combed his fingers through her hair, gently tugging it out of the confines of her ponytail. "You did good, pet, snatching tha ginger this morning. An to be 'onest, I like the thought of 'aving a female in my lot who likes the same things I do, who likes stealing an the thrill of the 'unt when she's chasing someone."

His fingers tangled in her hair as he trailed kisses down her neck. "You're perfect for me," he whispered, his heart beating faster as he felt the heat of arousal stirring in his loins. "A female Snatcher. You'd be the first. A woman who can stand beside me, who can steal, snatch an fight. I love it."

He leaned his weight against her, the fingers on his right hand digging into her shoulder as he started taking her jacket off. He'd tear her clothes off if he had to. Scabior could be very loving and gentle in bed, but he could also be a wild and fierce lover.

Violet giggled and laughed excitedly as she heard him growl deep in his throat. "Yes," he breathed, as he climbed on top of her, pinning her down on the mattress beneath him. "I can see it now. You will be a Snatcher. An together you an I will make quite a team once you're trained up a bit."

She felt the buldge in his pants rubbing against her thigh as he leaned over her, his face inches from hers, his long hair trailing down his back and cascading over his neck and shoulders. With a flick of his wand Scabior magically undressed her, leaving her naked and exposed on the bed beneath him.

He knelt down and slid two fingers into her. Her inner walls clenched around him as he pushed himself inside her, thrusting with his fingers. She was so slick but so tight he couldn't go in past the middle of his fingers.

"Relax, pet," he told her, withdrawing his fingers a bit. He placed the palm of his hand on her lower abdomen and pressed down lightly, eliciting a moan as she pressed her head against the pillow.

He slowly eased up on the pressure, then pressed down again while simultaneously sinking his fingers deep into her center, her warm fluids dribbling out around his fingers as he began thrusting again.

"Tha's it," he softly whispered, feeling her muscles relax around him. But it still want enough. "I need to spread you wider."

Everything suddenly came to a halt as he tried adding a third finger.

"Stop! Stop!" Violet cried, squirming uncomfortably beneath him.

Scabior froze, looking down at her as she wriggled and attempted to scoot out from underneath him. He quickly apologized, withdrawing his fingers and backing away from her.

"I'm sorry, Scabior," she said, her face blushing a bright shade of red. "It's just that I'm not very...well..."

"Experienced?" he finished for her.

Violet nodded.

"Tha's alright," he reassured her. "I like tha about you. It means tha you aren't like the others I've been with. You're still so fresh and new, like a dove that's just learning how to fly."

"There were others?"

Scabior chuckled. "Yes, love. Several others. Though none of them were 'alf as nice you."

With another wave of his wand Scabior's clothes magically vanished. He laid down beside her, lying on his back with his left leg bent at the knee and his right leg out straight, both legs spread wide enough that she could see him in all his naked glory.

"'Ere, pet. I'm going to teach you something. Give me your 'and."

She held out her hand, and Scabior took hold of her by the wrist. His lips parted, breathing heavily in lustful anticipation as her fingers encircled him at the base.

"Gently stroke it," he told her. "Slowly."

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of heat pooling in his groin. Every now and the he would offer her words of encouragement, as his heart rate increased and his breathing became ragged, his legs drifting farther apart as he softly moaned her name.

Violet continued stroking him, noticing how he felt like iron wrapped in a layer of velvet. He was firm yet his skin was so soft, like a solid rock cloaked in the finest silk. She could feel his throbbing pulse just beneath the surface of his skin, his body aching for release.

His body jerked, his heels digging into the mattress as he gripped the bedsheets. He cried out, moaning as she increased the speed of her ministrations.

"Tha's enough!" Scabior gasped, balling the blankets up in his fists. "Stop! I'm not...I'm not going to be able to 'old back if you keep tha up."

Violet stopped, releasing him and giving him a minute to catch his breath.

"You did good, pet," said Scabior, still breathing heavily as he looked at her and grinned. "Very good. The next thing you need to do is learn 'ow to do tha with your mouth. But we'll save tha for another day."

Scabior sat up in bed and eased Violet down onto her back. "I know you aren't very experienced," he said softly. "But tha's alright, because I'm going to teach you everything you need to know, slowly, a little at a time."

He slowly entered her then stilled for a moment, giving her time to get used to the feel of having him inside her. He pulled back a little then thrust himself forward, grinning as she gasped and moaned his name. He drew back once more, inhaling deeply, then drove himself into her again, still maintaining control so as not to be too rough with her.

He slowly increased his speed, giving her more and taking his time with her. She had no sexual experience outside of her relationship with him, but Scabior had plenty of experience. It was his advanced level of control, skill and experience that enabled him to maintain a slow, steady pace even though his body was practically screaming for release. He knew how to please a woman, as well as how to restrain himself until the time was right.

When he finally reached his peak, he drove himself into her one last time, with Violet following him moments later as he emptied himself into her.

Scabior collapsed on top of her, still fully ensheathed in her warmth. "Pet..." he moaned faintly as he lay on top of her. "I love you. I think you are going to be my favorite."


	24. Stand Beside Me

The last days of April began to fade as the month drew to a close. It was during the last full week of April that Lucius sent an owl to Scabior, asking him to come to the manor at once.

Scabior apparated to Malfoy Manor, in hopes that Lucius had enough sense to summon him while Bellatrix was away. Bellatrix and Scabior were liable to kill each other if they crossed paths again, so Lucius made sure she wasn't there when Scabior arrived.

"We lost them, Scabior," Lucius said as soon as the Snatcher entered the drawing room. "Turns out that was Potter and his friends that you brought it...and all three of them escaped."

"'Ow did they escape?" Scabior asked.

Lucius curled his lip in disgust, tightening his grip on the glass of brandy he was holding. "My former house elf," he spat in contempt. "Dobby returned and managed to rescue them. I don't know what became of them once they left. But if Bellatrix was successful in her endeavors, one of them is probably pinned to the ground by one of her daggers."

Scabior frowned. "So the bitch is still flingin' 'er daggers at people, ay? I wonder if she dipped it in poison like the one she stuck me with."

"But that's not why I called you here," said Lucius, his expression grim as he gazed at the head Snatcher. "I have some important information regarding Freeman Snowden." He sighed wearily and took a sip of his drink. "I was in hopes I wouldn't have to tell you this. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this in the end. But with Potter still alive and the Dark Lord rallying his followers for the coming battle - "

"Wait, wha? Rallying 'is followers for battle? 'Ow come 'e 'asn't told about this? After all I am the leader of the Snatchers," Scabior said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"He's starting with those closest to him, with his Death Eaters and those of us who are stationed in Hogwarts. Which is why I have to tell you this now, because he should be sending you a message in a day or two. And once the war begins there will be no stopping it. This may be the last chance I have to speak with you in private, so I have to tell you now while there's still time.

"Long ago, before Potter was born and the Death Eaters came to be, Freeman and the Dark Lord were rivals," Lucius began, pausing to take another swing of brandy before continuing. "Freeman had everything the Dark Lord desired, and was everything he wanted to be. He was a pureblood with access to some of the most powerful ancient magic the wizarding world has ever known. Because of this, it wasn't long until the Dark Lord decided that Freeman needed to be dealt with.

"Now Freeman is a very powerful, very dangerous wizard. But even with all that power, he knew that a fight between him and the Dark Lord wouldn't end well. He began using illusion charms to disguise himself. He traveled far and wide, using fake names and different disguises wherever he went, never daring to remain in one place for too long.

"He eventually began gathering followers. To them he is known as Lord Frost and The Frozen Executioner. They aren't told what his real name is, so if any of them are captured they can't reveal his true identity."

"Then 'ow is it tha you know 'is name?" Scabior asked. "'Ow can you be sure the photograph you gave me is wha 'e really looks like?"

"Do you really want to know?" Lucius queried. He appeared to have aged ten years in the last few weeks, and was now giving Scabior a thoroughly exhausted look that said he was tired of this, of the war, of the constant stress and strain it had placed on his family. "If you still have the photograph I gave you, take it out and have a closer look at it. Think about what it is you're looking at. I won't speak of it if I don't have to."

Scabior was confused. He reached inside the pocket of his jacket and took out the photograph of Freeman Snowden. "I don't understand," he said, after studying the photo for several seconds. "Wha am I supposed to be looking for?"

Lucius spoke only one word - "Resemblance."

"Resemblance?" Scabior looked down at the photo then back at Lucius, and slowly the pieces began to fall into place. "Wait, are you - '

"Related?" Lucius interrupted. "All pureblood families are related to some degree, Scabior. But yes, we are related.

"In the days before he fled and went into hiding, I tried to persuade Freeman to abandon his plans for destroying the Dark Lord and ruling in his place. I told him that, as long as he continued to oppose the Dark Lord, his chances of surviving were slim to none. But Freeman wouldn't hear any of it, and for a while I feared for my safety as well, thinking that if the Dark Lord killed him I would suffer the same fate simply by knowing and associating with him.

"Freeman trusts me because we're related. Because we're...family." He made a face, looking as though it sickened him to consider Freeman a part of his family. "That's why I know his true name and identity.

"Shortly before the downfall of the Dark Lord when Potter was a mere infant, Freeman was almost captured on the eve of the Dark Lord's destruction. He went into hiding, and there are those among us who believe that, were it not for Potter, Freeman would have been dead a long time ago. The end result is that two of the most powerful dark wizards in our world vanished at the same time."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Scabior asked. "You could 'ave told me this months ago when I first came to you with questions about Snowden."

"I'm telling you this because the war is drawing near. A great battle is at hand. And should the Dark Lord be defeated, those of us that survive will then have to face the wrath of Freeman."

Lucius set his glass of brandy on the coffee table. He rose from his seat and walked towards the window, where he turned his solemn gaze towards the courtyard that was now bathed in shadow as the last rays of the setting sun began to sink beneath the horizon.

"I fear what will become of us, Scabior," said Lucius, the pale highlights in his silvery blond hair shining in the glow of the fading sunlight. "Freeman isn't stronger than the Dark Lord, but then again he doesn't have to be, for he posses a wealth of ancient magic our kind has not witnessed for centuries. His followers are few in number, but each one of them has been taught a sample of the type of magic he knows."

Scabior snorted, grinning as he walked towards Lucius. "Wha? Are you afraid of 'is men as well? I'll 'ave you know tha I already killed one of them. A bloke by the name of Jacob O' Riley."

"You did? Well, that's news to me."

"Don't act so surpsied," said Scabior, now feeling somewhat offended by his friend's reaction. "You think I can't 'andle someone like tha on my own?"

"No, it isn't that, Scabior. I just wasn't aware of the fact that you've encountered one of his followers."

"More than one actually," Scabior corrected him. "I'll admit it was a bit of a challenge, but I can take them one on one."

"So there's hope for us after all," said Lucius, a small smile creasing the corners of his lips.

"Lucius, I think the stress of everything is getting to you. You're not yourself, mate."

"Is it really that noticeable?" Lucius said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as his trembling hands gripped the windowsill to stop them from shaking. "Do you honestly believe the Dark Lord will not be defeated? Do you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all of us will survive?"

Scabior shook his head. "No, I cannot guarantee anyone's safety or survival right now."

"Exactly."

Lucius turned slowly. He walked towards Scabior and put a hand on his shoulder. "Keep her safe, Scabior. Do everything you can to protect her. If the Dark Lord is victorious, those of us that survive with have a much greater chance at surviving the fight with Freeman. But if the Dark Lord were to fall - "

"Don't even think of tha, Lucius."

" - then the few of us that survive will face an even greater battle the likes of which none of us may live to tell about," Lucius finished.

\----------------

The cold wind blew his hair as he stood atop the ridge overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts. He tightened his grip on his wand, his breath steaming in the cold night air. High above him the stars were shining, sparkling like minute crystals in a vast sky of infinite black. It was a perfectly clear, calm evening. But although the air was still and the cloudless skies held the promise of a new dawn, Scabior knew that although the morning was certain his victory as not. The sky held so much promise, and yet it was a promise easily broken, for it did not guarantee he would live to see tomorrow.

He could still hear the last words Lucius had spoken to him, echoing in his mind as he stood gazing out at the castle in the distance. He'd told Scabior to protect her and keep her safe. But was this really keeping her safe, when he had allowed her to follow him into battle? He had given her the opportunity to die beside him in war. How was that protecting her? Had he failed her before the battle had even begun?

Slowly he turned, his gaze drifting towards the witch who was standing beside him. Behind him stood several dozen new recruits, as well as people from scattered bands of roaming Snatchers that he'd summoned for the fight. He didn't know how many of them would survive. Nothing was certain right now. The battle lines had been drawn, and there was no turning back. Violet was a Snatcher, and that meant they would stand together. It also meant they could fall together as well, side by side, dying in a war they no longer supported or cared to be a part of.

Scabior took her hand in both of his. He needed to feel her, to know that this was real. He needed to hold her one laat time, not knowing what their fate may be. He looked deep into her eyes, then pulled her close and kissed her. For one brief moment time stood still, as they stood locked in each others' embrace, on the brink of war, desperate to share one last moment together before all hell broke loose and the world collapsed around them.

"You could have left me behind," said Violet, when their lips parted and she looked up into his grey-blue eyes.

"Really?" Scabior queried. "And would you 'ave stayed put if I told you not to come?"

"No."

Scabior smirked. "Tha's wha I thought." He looked back at the castle and said, "They're putting up barriers, trying to keep us out. Any minute now the Dark Lord is going to give us the signal to move in an attack."

"How did it come to this? Where did everything go wrong, Scabior?"

Scabior squeezed her hand. "I don't know, pet. I only know where my own mistakes were made. But all this...this wasn't my doing. This was someone else's mistake. An now we're going to pay the price for wha someone else 'as done."

Scabior and Violet looked up as the sky above them exploded in a shower of green sparks, the shimmering light illuminating the darkness like a waterfall of glittering stars. One by one the sparks began to slowly trickle down from the heavens, a silent call to action as the battle finally begun.

"Tha's the signal," said Scabior. "It's time."

Scabior led his men into battle, racing downhill towards the covered bridge. He was not expecting the protective barrier that had been placed on the castle to extend beyond the castle walls. And as he neared the bridge, there was a blinding flash, followed by the sound of bloodcurdling screams as several of his men struck the invisible barrier, meeting their end as their bodies disintegrated on impact.

"Violet!" Scabior shouted, skidding to a stop as he grabbed her by the arm to prevent her from running into the was jerked off her feet, her legs flying out from under her as she fell on her arse in the dirt. One of her shoes came flying off, and she watched as it struck the barrier and exploded in a shower of sparks.

Scabior swore as he held out his arm to halt the progress of the men behind him. Jeremy was shaking with fright, his eyes wide as he stared into the blank nothingness where several of his fellow Snatchers had vanished into thin air. His cousin Ranca placed a hand on his trembling shoulder, as he too stared at the invisible barrier. Silis and Greyback were still alive, though neither of them were expecting what had just happened.

"Dammit!" Greyback snarled. "What the hell do we do now?"

"We can't do anything until the barrier is broken," said Scabior. He jabbed the air in front of him with his wand, causing a small explosion of white sparks to erupt in midair where the tip of his wand touched the barrier.

"There must be a way around!" the werewolf spat. "A weak spot. Some way for us to break through!"

"Will you shut up so I can think!" Scabior shouted.

Violet stood up and brushed the dirt off her pants. She looked at Greyback as he growled and started pacing like a caged animal. It was then that something caught her eye, a faint glow in the distance near the edge of the forest. As she watched, rippling waves of soft blue, pink and green light began to move and dance across the ground. The lights rose high into the air, forming luminous bands that stretched across the night sky. The bands of colored light were not unlike he aurora borealis that were often seen in the northern hemisphere. But this wasn't the time or place for them.

"Scabior..." Violet tugged on the sleeve of his jacket, her eyes still focused on the dancing trails of light that lit the sky.

Scabior heard the fear in her voice, and quickly turned to see what was wrong. His eyes were immediately drawn towards the undulating bands in the night sky, as were the eyes of those around him as they turned, one by one, all looking up in wonder at the mysterious bands of colorful light.

The light shifted and changed, taking shape as it formed a massive glittering slowflake that stretched across the sky. A snow leopard emerged from the center of the snowflake, its jaws opening in a silent roar, its eyes gleaming with the light of a thousand stars.

Scabior's mouth opened as he stared at the creature in stunned disbelief, the glittering stars reflecting in his eyes as the subtle glow of the gleaming leopard lit the skies. Freeman had created his own version of the Dark Mark, the snow leopard taking the place of the snake that slithered from the mouth of the skull conjured by the Death Eaters.

He knew what that sign meant, what it was used for and why the Death Eaters conjured it. It also meant that Freeman had to be somewhere close by. But what was he planning? Surely he wouldn't choose this moment to attack, turning what was already going to be a war into an all out blood bath.

As the glowing image of the snowflake faded from the sky, Scabior saw a group of people moving down the hill towards the bridge. He glanced back at the castle, and saw what appeared to be minute flakes of ash falling from the sky. The barrier around the castle was crumbling. Voldemort had found a way to break through, giving them access to the bridge and allowing them entrance to the castle. And as the ash fell in drifting flurries all around them, streaks of fire lit the night sky, crisscrossing the invisible barrier and burning through the protective shield, until it formed a blazing spider web in the heavens above.

Glowing embers and flakes of ash rained downed on Hogwarts as the barrier rapidly disintegrated. Scabior took a step forward, slowly inching his way towards the covered bridge. Nothing happened, so he took another step forward, and grinned. The barrier was down. He was now free to lead his men into the castle. But how long would it be before Freeman caught up with him? And what would happen when Freeman and the Snatchers finally met?


	25. Sacrifice

"Master, look! There's someone out there, and they're coming right at us!"

"Just keep going!" Scabior shouted, his scarf trailing out behind him as he ran across the covered bridge.

Let Freeman come. Scabior remembered what Lucius said about how he wasn't stronger than the Dark Lord. If he was foolish enough to think he could defeat Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters, then let him come. Let him join the war and embrace his own demise. Freeman was no match for Lord Voldemort, and he was vastly outnumbered. Let Voldemort handle his rival on his own. He wasn't Scabior's problem. Or at least that's what he thought.

A sudden cry from the back of his group alerted Scabior to the first signs of danger. He looked over his shoulder as he ran, and saw one of his men struck by a flare of red light. The light exploded on contact, sending the unfortunate Snatcher crashing through the railing and over the side of the bridge, his scream fading into the darkness that surrounded him as he fell. The man responsible for the attack stepped out of the shadows, and Scabior saw the familiar face of Morvin leering at him in the moonlight.

Scabior came to an abrupt halt when he saw the former Snatcher running across the bridge, still indiscriminately firing hexes at any of the Snatchers that were within range, forcing many of them to stop and defend themselves with shield charms. The rest of them kept running, spurred on as Scabior ordered them to keep moving, shoving the stragglers as they passed to hurry them up.

When the majority of his men had passed him on the covered bridge, and only a handful remained who were still fighting, Scabior came forward to face Morvin. The two wizards began to duel each other on the bridge, but it was over almost as soon as it began when Scabior managed to disarm Morvin within a matter of minutes.

Morvin watched helplessly as his wand flew out of his hand and sailed over the railing. He raised his hands in front of him and began to back away as Scabior walked towards him, his wand aimed directly at his heart.

"So you left me an decided to join 'im," said Scabior. "I always knew you'd turn your back on me. But I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to join this arsehole an 'is rouge band of misfits."

Before he could speak a flash of green light illuminated the night, and Morvin fell to the floor dead. But this was not Scabior's doing. The head Snatcher watched as Freeman stepped over Morvin's body, his cold, emotionless eyes focusing on Scabior as he came forward.

Scabior swallowed hard, keeping his wand on Freeman as the dark wizard stepped out of the crowd. It felt like this man's silent gaze could turn water into ice, and his chest tightened as Scabior's breath steamed in the cold night air. He could have sworn that Freeman's presence made the temperature drop by several degrees, and it was a struggle to look him in the eye when just a single glance was enough to make him shiver.

Those eyes, that lifeless, penetrating stare that froze the breath within his lungs and sent chills down his spine, his skin erupting in a series of goosebumps along his arms and legs as Scabior took a step back, his wand still aimed at Freeman as his hand began to tremble and shake. He could hear the cries of those fighting their way through Hogwarts, with both Yaxley and Lucius shouting curses as the ground shook and explosions rent the air. The war had started, but it would be held on three fronts, between Voldemort, the people at Hogwarts and the Dark Lord's rival Freeman Snowden.

The sound of fighting was all around them, and when Greyback heard the screams and explosions in the distance, he was unable to restrain himself. He dropped down on all fours and ran howling into the growing chaos that surrounded the castle. He couldn't control his animal instincts, his blood lust rising to consume him. This was the perfect opportunity for him to kill as many people as he wanted, and he would not hold back. Anyone who crossed his path as as good as dead.

Bellatrix's mad, cackling laugh rose above the terrified shouts and anguished screams around her. A ring of flames went up around her, and she laughed as her foes were sent running, their flesh burning from the cursed fire that wouldn't go out until her victims perished, burning them alive as they ran screaming through the grounds.

"Come on then! You want me, then let's see you have a go at it!" Bellatrix lowered her ring of fire, giving her enemies a chance to attack. But she was like Freeman, for there were few who dared to look upon her let alone challenge her to a fight.

Scabior didn't have long to focus on the war going on behind him. He only looked away for a moment when Freeman charged at him, launching into a fierce battle with the head Snatcher.

The Snatchers drew back, giving Scabior and Freeman room to fight. But while Scabior was preoccupied, Violet spied Bellatrix and saw this as her chance to finish the mad witch once and for all. She ducked down and pushed her way through the crowd of Snatchers, who were too engrossed in the battle between Freeman and Scabior to notice as she left the group. The only one who saw her leave was Ranca, but he didn't notice until it was too late, catching a fleeting glance of her as she left the group and made for the castle.

There was no time to waste. Violet was going to get herself killed if someone didn't stop her before she caught up with Bellatrix. Scabior was too busy dueling Freeman to go after her. The only person who could do anything about it was Ranca.

Ranca drew his wand, pushing past the others on the bridge as he ran towards the battlefield, praying that he could reach her in time before it was too late. But trying to catch up to her and not lose her in the crowd would be difficult, for everything around him was dissolving into chaos.

All he could do was run, run and hope he wouldn't lose sight of her. As he passed by one of the castle's outer walls, an explosion on his right sent bricks and debris flying in all directions. His vision obscured by clouds of smoke and dust, Ranca couldn't see where he was going or what was in front of him. He paused to look around, coughing and covering his mouth with his hand as he strained to see through the thick clouds of dust. A low rumble shook the earth as parts of the wall began to collapse. And although he couldn't see where he was going, he had no choice but to continue on as bricks and stones began raining down from above.

As he was running blindly through the smoke trying to escape before the avalanche of falling stones crushed him, he heard the terrified screams of a young woman coming from somewhere up ahead. He recognized the harsh growls that followed, and knew that the second voice belonged to Greyback. He could just make out the silhouette of the werewolf as he pounced on the woman, ripping her throat out as she uttered one last gurgling groan.

The air began to clear, and Ranca looked to the left where the smoke had thinned enough for him to get a good look at his surroundings. He could see now that he was nearing another section of wall that had torn down in the explosion. Broken glass littered the floor, along with the mangled and mutilated bodies of several first year students who didn't make it in time.

A familiar howl rent the air, and Ranca ducked inside through a hole in the wall as a man emerged from the clouds of thinning smoke. The man was walking on all fours, and had the severed remains of a child's arm in his mouth. But this wasn't Greyback. It was one of the members of his pack that he had summoned to battle.

Other werewolves began to emerge from the rubble. One of them was female, her dress reduced to ragged strips of fabric that was caked in dirt and blood. One by one the took up the call, howling in response as they answered Greyback's calls to war.

The ground beneath his feet shook violently, and Ranca gripped the broken edges of the atone wall to keep from falling over. The pack of werewolves ignored the trembling earth, and ran off to rejoin their leader.

When the shaking settled down, Ranca had a moment to look around. He was inside the castle, and he had no clue where Bellatrix or Violet were. His heart began to race as panic rose up in his chest. He knew that Violet was as good as dead if she tried to fight Bellatrix. If he was lucky, she might have lost track of Bellatrix and was unable to find her. Of course that wasn't exactly good either, for there were all manner of people and creatures roaming the grounds that would kill her just as soon as look at her.

His chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath, Ranca pressed his back against the wall and chanced looking outside to see if he could locate either Bellatrix or Violet. The instant he poked his head outside a flash of green whizzed past, ricocheting off the wall and smashing through a window.

Ranca yelped and jumped back. It took a second for him to register that the attack had not come from outside the castle walls but inside them. And as he searched for the source of the curse, a harsh screech issued from high above, and he looked up to see Bellatrix dueling someone on the stairway.

With a single sideways swipe of her wand Bellatrix sent a slicing wave of greenish black light at her enemy, instantly decapitating the wizard she was dueling with, his severed head soaring in an arch through the air as it flew over the railing and struck the wall, leaving trails of blood oozing down the wall and staircase. She then threw her head back and laughed, the halls ringing with the sound of her malicious laughter.

The sight of a mentally insane witch beheading another human being was enough to make Ranca's mind recoil in horror as the echos of her laughter filled the air. This woman was completely mad, a horror the likes of which he had never seen before. The only time he'd ever witnessed anything like it was when Greyback was on the prowl, stalking and killing whoever was unfortunate enough to cross his path. But even he didn't laugh about it afterwards. This woman was in a league of her own, and watching her slaughter her fellow human beings then laugh like it was some kind of hilarious joke was enough to make Ranca feel ill.

"Bellabitch!" a voice called out, stopping the crazed witch's insane laughter as she shifted her gaze towards the figure of a young woman standing in the corridor.

Ranca gasped, his heart leaping into his throat where it stilled for a second before plummiting into the pit of his stomach. There was Violet, her wand drawn and ready for battle. Why on earth had she decided to go after Bellatrix? Didn't she learn her lesson the last time she attacked the mad witch? She'd only escaped being killed because Scabior was there to rescue her. But Scabior wasn't here now. He was too engrossed in battling Freeman on the covered bridge to know that Violet had gone missing.

A twisted smile creased the corners of Bellatrix's lips. She leaned over the railing, looking down at the young witch below. "You seem to be alone, dear," she called down in her mocking baby voice. "And yet the widdle baby still decided to pway with me."

"No," Ranca whispered. "No, no, please..."

"Are you going to come down here and fight me?" Violet shouted. "Or do I have to come up there after you?"

The question made Bellatrix laugh. She was greatly amused by the notion of this inexperienced weakling challenging her to a fight. "I'll gladly come to you, darling. For how could I expect an infant such as yourself to walk up these stairs when you barely know how to crawl?"

Bellatrix's body dissolved into a plume of black smoke as she launched herself off the stairs. The smoke rose into the air, where it circled around the room before stopping in front of Violet. Bellatrix's body materialized out of the smoke that enveloped her dark form, the trailing whisps of smoke dissolving as she came forth, ready to do battle with her inexperienced challenger.

Violet yelped and fell backwards, startled by Bellatrix's sudden appearance. She wasn't expecting her to have the ability to change form, to enshroud herself in a veil of black smoke and take flight as though she were a bird upon the wind. It made her think that perhaps she had underestimated her opponent, and made her wonder what other tricks Bellatrix was capable of.

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix cooed, leering at the young witch. "Is the poor baby fwightened?"

It took Violet a minute to regain her composure, but it was too late, for Bellatrix had seen through her facade. Violet wasn't as brave or as powerful as she wanted Bellatrix to believe. And faced with the overwhelming strength of a demented witch who was much older and stronger than she was, Violet suddenly realized that she had no business being here, amid the chaos and the fighting. What could she do in a war that began years before she was born? And how was she going to take down a witch who practically old enough to be her mother?

Bellatrix's eyes were blazing with the flames of Hell, her attitude changing in an instant as she abandoned her mocking tone. She became the mindless killer that she always was, and although Violet tried to fight back and defend herself, she couldn't keep up with the speed and strength of her opponent. It was only a matter of time before the ferocity of her attacks overwhelmed her, bringing an end to Violet's dreams of vengeance.

She managed to block the first few hexes Bellatrix sent at her, but then one particularly strong curse struck her shield charm and exploded on contact, sending Violet flying backwards and crashing onto the wall. The blow was enough to knock the wind out of her as she collapsed in a heap on the floor. Her vision darkened, and for a moment she could neither see nor move.

Bellatrix levitated her up off the floor, lifting her into the air and slamming her against the railing on the staircase. Violet felt her ribs crack as she made contact with the railing. Stars exploded before the blackness that still clouded her vision, her body going limp as she hung over the railing like a rag doll. She tried to gasp, she tried scream at the gut wrenching agony that was tearing her apart, her mouth filling with blood that dripped onto the floor beneath her. But she could scarcely breathe let alone scream.

The mad witch laughed gleefully as she walked towards the staircase. She hadn't noticed Ranca who was crouched down behind broken slabs of bricks and stones.

Violet began to stir, groaning as she attempted to draw breath into her lungs. She tried to move and began sliding off the banister. It was too late to stop herself from falling, and she hit the ground twenty feet below with a sickening crunch.

"Having fun, dear?" Bellatrix queried, laughing at the young witch's pain as she lay gasping and groaning on the floor. "I hope so because the fun's not over yet. Crucio!"

Violet still hadn't gotten her wind back when Bellatrix's curse hit home, and her mouth opened in wordless torment as she twisted and writhed on the floor, convulsing in spasms of agonized torment. When breath returned to her lungs she screamed, screamed as her back arched up off the floor and her body contorted from the effects of the curse. She started choking on her own blood, the warm, crimson fluid dribbling down her neck as she rolled over on the floor, curling in on herself as she continued to scream and gasp.

"Aww, is the poor baby not having as much fun as she thought she would?" Bellatrix crooned, lifting the spell from her.

Violet was unable to move, her consciousness slipping away as pain and darkness consumed her. She saw her wand lying on the floor just a few feet away from where she had collapsed, the blood pooling beneath her as she lay gasping for breath. She tried reaching for her wand, her fingers trembling as she stretched her arm towards the length of pine, but it was too far away for her to reach it.

Ranca had had enough of watching Bellatrix torture Violet. He couldn't just leave her there, helpless and unable to defend herself. He couldn't stand back and watch her die. He had to do something before it was too late, even if it meant risking his life to save hers.

Bellatrix raised her wand and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" Ranca ran out from hiding, racing towards Violet as fast as he could. He placed himself between her and the fatal curse, taking the curse head on and sacrificing himself to save Violet's life.

The mad witch swore under her breath and prepared to cast her curse again, when suddenly the ground beneath her feet shook violently, and the staircase overhead began to crumble. Bellatrix was forced to retreat as the staircase gave way and struck the ground with an almighty crash. She escaped through the hole in the wall that had allowed Ranca entrance into the castle, the collapsed staircase blocking her way back into the castle, leaving Violet alone with Ranca's lifeless body on the other side.

Tears filled Violet's eyes as she drug herself across the floor to where Ranca lay beside her. She rested her head against his chest, sobbing as trails of tears mingled with the blood that stained her cheeks. "Ranca," she whispered, her vision blurring as she looked upon his face, his eyes blank as they stared at the ceiling.

There was no way to fight against the pain that consumed her, the sorrow that engulfed her heart. She closed her eyes, hoping against hope that this was all just a dream, and that maybe she'd wake up in Scabior's tent in the forest, safe and warm, held in his embrace as he lay beside her. But Scabior was no where to be seen, and the dream had swiftly become a nightmare. The room was growing dark as she fought to draw air into her lungs, as her fingers tightened around the fabric of Ranca's shirt. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and let the darkness consume her at last.


	26. Saying Goodbye

While the battle of Hogwarts was raging inside the castle walls, Scabior was still fighting Freeman on the covered bridge, his men watching from a safe distance on one side of the bridge while Freeman's followers stood back and watched on the other end of the bridge.

Freeman didn't use conventional methods in battle. Nearly all of his spells were elemental magic that focused on the element of ice. His idea of a stunning spell was pinning his opponent to the wall with thick spears or daggers made from ice. He also preferred using freezing charms to paralyze his opponent.

There wasn't much room to duel on a bridge, and Scabior often found himself being driven back by the ferocity of Freeman's attacks. He was able to dodge his opponent's attacks, and cause a few of the hexes to rebound off his shield charm, sending them back at Freeman. But the tables turned when Freeman switched to using a variety of ice element spells, abandoning the more conventional methods in favor of the magic he specialized in.

He pointed his wand at the floor beneath Scabior's feet, and fired a freezing charms at the wooden floorboards. The floor was instantly covered in a solid sheet of ice that spread out for several feet in all directions.

Scabior went sliding across the icy floor, slipping and falling backwards into the crowd of Snatchers that had gathered behind him. He clung to the railing as Silis helped him up, holding him steady as he slowly inched his way forward. He fired another curse at Freeman, catching him in the side and wounding him. He then began pulling himself across the ice, using the railing to keep from falling.

Freeman clutched his bleeding side, the warm blood seeping between his fingers felt like rivers of lava against his cold, pale skin. He touched the tip of his wand to his wound and sealed it closed with a freezing charm. He then looked back at Scabior and saw that the Snatcher had almost made it across the frozen patch of ice.

He cast a freezing charm on the railing, turning it to solid ice in an effort to halt Scabior's progress. Scabior fought back, sending a blazing flare of white light at his opponent just as he started losing his grip on the railing. The curse hit Freeman and blasted him off his feet, causing him to collide with the group of men that stood behind him. He and his followers struck the railing with such force that the wood snapped in two, and one by one they toppled over the side of the bridge. At the same time Scabior lost his hold on the icy railing, went sailing across the slippery floor, and ended up doing the splits on the ice, effectively ramming his testicles into his groin as his crotch made contact with the ground.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he swayed slightly as the corners of his vision darkened. Meanwhile Freeman had nearly fallen from the bridge, and several of his men were now attempting to pull him to safety.

Scabior's body went limp as he collapsed in slow motion onto his back. He let his eyes drift closed, and for several seconds he lay still, dazed and in agony from the blow to his nether regions. It was then he realized that, among the many voices who were calling out with concern and urging him to get back up and fight, Violet's voice was not present amongst the group of men on the bridge.

He opened his eyes, lifting his head up off the floor and looking around. He saw Freeman on one side of the bridge, scrabbling for purchase as he panicked and screamed, his legs flailing in the air as his men tried pulling him back onto the bridge. On the other side he saw his band of Snatchers, but Violet was missing.

"Violet!" Scabior shouted, slipping as he tried to stand up. "Violet, where are you?"

Scabior was becoming frantic. There was no reply, and he knew she would have answered him if she were there. She should have been right there beside him, helping him to his feet as he scrambled and slid on the ice. But she was no where to be seen, and Scabior didn't know what had happened to her.

By now Freeman's small band of followers had succeeded in hauling their leader onto the bridge, and Scabior knew that it wouldn't be long until the battle recommenced. Scabior couldn't help but notice that Freeman appeared to be terrified of falling off the bridge. And while Scabior's men had been yelling at him to get back up, the voice that rose above the crowd was Freeman as he dangled over the side of the bridge, screaming as he clung to the broken railing.

Was this Freeman's weakness? Had he been so preoccupied with mastering the ancient art of elemental magic that he hadn't taken the time to learn how to apparate? There was only one way to find out.

Scabior stretched out across the frozen floor, reaching for the railing on the opposite side of the bridge. He had to hurry. For all he knew Violet could be lost or dying. He had just grabbed hold of the railing and was almost on his feet when a freezing charm struck his left arm, chilling him to the bone and encasing his arm in a layer of solid ice.

"Stay down!" Freeman shouted, pointing his wand at Scabior. "You're not going anywhere unless I say so!"

"Fuck off!" Scabior spat angrily. He grit his teeth and hauled himself onto his feet, his left arm hanging limp at his side. "This ends now, Snowden. I don't 'ave time to waste on the likes of you."

Freeman laughed. "Since when did I say you were leaving? No. You're staying right here until I ship you out in pieces in a pine box."

That did it. That was the final straw that drove Scabior over the edge. With a roar of rage he plunged his wand clean through the wooden floorboards. There was a blinding flash, followed by an explosion as the wood splintered and the ground beneath them began to shake. Scabior shot Freeman a vicious grin, and the floor on Freeman's side of the bridge tilted sideways as the support beams began to crumble.

The covered bridge had been split in two, the beams shattering and bursting into flame as the fiery curse exploded each wooden plank and support beam from within. Freeman screamed and tried to run to Scabior's side of the bridge, but the floor gave way beneath his feet.

Scabior watched as Freeman and his men plunged into the blackness below, their screams fading into the night as they plummeted downwards. He didn't know if his actions had been enough to finish Freeman once and for all. But it was enough to buy him the time he needed to search for Violet.

"Where is she?" Scabior cried. "Where's Violet?"

He raised his wand, seeing that the edges of the ivy rod were frayed and splintered. He was lucky his wand hadn't been shattered by the explosive curse that sent Freeman and his men plunging into the depths below.

Scabior struggled to get to his feet, slipping in his haste to stand. "Violet!" he shouted, falling and sliding across the ice. He was desperate to find her and make sure she was still alive.

Jeremy and Silis came forward, seizing him by his good arm and pulling him across the ice. As soon as his feet touched the wooden surface below, Scabior stood up and shoved the others out of his way, moving as quickly as he could towards the castle.

"Wait up!" Silis called out, running after his master. "You can't go running off like that! Hold still. We need to thaw you out first."

"Then 'urry it up!" snapped Scabior. "Violet is missing an I need to find 'er. Did any of you see where she went?"

The others were silent as Silis drew his wand, and began preforming a spell to melt the ice on Scabior's left arm. The Snatchers looked around, shrugging and shaking their heads. They didn't know where Violet was. One of them spoke up and said, "Ranca's not here either. Looks like he's gone missing as well."

"Ranca?" Scabior echoed. "Wha the bloody 'ell is going on? Where are they?"

The ice encasing Scabior's arm slowly began to melt. The head Snatcher flexed his fingers as feeling returned to his hand. His skin was still cold and partially numb, and it took a few minutes before he could feel his fingers again.

"Tha bastard 'as some rather 'andy tricks up 'is sleeve," said Scabior, moving and flexing his arm as the melted ice dripped onto the floor, forming a puddle at his feet. He then turned to the others and said, "Jeremy, you come with me. The rest of you are to 'ead to the castle and proceed with the original plan. Take no prisoners an kill anyone who gets in your way."

The battle was still raging on both sides as Scabior and Jeremy ducked and ran, a barrage of curses exploding in the air above them like fireworks. Behind them the Death Eaters were screaming, shouting hexes and furious cries of anger as they fought back against the teachers and students of Hogwarts.

Scabior looked up as a massive explosion rent the air. One of the towers had been hit, and had begun crumbling to the ground. The earth began to tremble as a distant roar filled the air. It wasn't long afterwards that a showeer of bricks, dust and debris began cascading down from the darkened skies above.

"Move!" Scabior shouted, pushing Jeremy along ahead of him. At the same time the earth began to shake with tremendous footsteps, and Jeremy froze, his mouth hanging open in stunned disbelief as a group of giants entered the battlefield

One of the giants roared, picking up a large boulder and hurling it at the tower that stood adjacent to the one that was already collapsing. One by one the towers and walls began to break apart, their shattered remains striking the earth with such force that Jeremy stumbled sideways and fell to his knees. He was unable to walk or run from the force of the earthquake, and Scabior, who was having a difficult time outrunning the hail of debris from above, was forced to grab Jeremy by the arm and practically yank him off his feet to get him moving again.

Together he and Jeremy ran as the castle wall behind them fell, and Lucius Malfoy lead the charge down into the castle, followed closely by a band of his fellow Death Eaters. Chaos and confusion was breaking out all around them as the battle continued to intensify. They would be lucky to make it out alive, let alone find Violet and escape with her.

Scabior and Jeremy continued to run, with Scabior's pale eyes scanning the area for his lost lover. Scabior was running full speed down a flight of steps when he rounded the corner and collided with a pair of young witches. One of the witches was significantly older than the female accompanying her, with short, spiky hair that was a vivid shade of purple. The other looked to be in her early twenties, with flaming red hair and bright green eyes.

The four of them collapsed in a tangled heap on the ground. The younger of the two witches shoved her foot in Jeremy's face, as she attempted to free herself from tangled mass of bodies and limbs. She then tumbled out of the pile of bodies, her short auburn hair spilling forward into her face as she rolled over onto her back.

There was a split second where her eyes met Scabior's, and they both froze, staring at each other.

Scabior couldn't believe it. This young witch bore a strong resemblance to Violet. They looked as though they could be related. And suddenly Scabior realized that this may very well be Violet's sister that had gone missing several months ago. He was just about to speak when the older witch with the purple hair stood up and fired a hex at Scabior, narrowly missing his outstretched hand as he reached towards her young companion.

"Stay away from her!" the older witch shouted, pulling her companion off the ground and starting to run with her. "He's a Snatcher! Run! We have to reach the others before it's too late."

"Sir?" said Jeremy, his small voice barely penetrating the haze of Scabior's mind. "Sir, what's wrong? You act like you've just seen a ghost."

Scabior stared at the witches, watching them disappear around the corner and back into the fighting going on outside. He then turned to Jeremy, his mouth slightly open and his eyes as wide as dinner plates. "I think I just found Violet's sister."

Jeremy blinked and stared at him, trying to process what Scabior had just told him. "Well, what do we do now? Shouldn't we try to find Violet first?"

Torn by indecision, Scabior's gaze returned to the pair of witches as the younger of the two suddenly came to a halt, jerking the older one backwards as she stumbled and nearly fell. The younger witch was talking, glancing back at the two Snatchers, but they were too far away to hear what was being said.

If this was Heather, Scabior hated to leave her in a war zone where she was likely to get killed. However he doubted if he could get close enough to tell her who he was, and that he and Violet had been looking for her. Even if he could talk to her, and she allowed him to get close without hexing his balls off, she probably wouldn't believe a word he said. She obviously wasn't fighting on the same side he was. And since Scabior knew that Violet had at one point in time supported the Order of the Phoenix, it wouldn't surprise him if Heather had run away and joined the Order in secret. Which meant that there would be no way Scabior could get near her, not without Violet there to help him explain everything. So for now his only option was to continue searching for Violet.

\-------------------

The Death Eaters were making progress, taking the battle further into the castle. This helped clear the way for Scabior as he and Jeremy ducked into the castle through a hole that had been blasted through the wall. The pair of Snatchers met with little resistance as they ran down a long corridor and down a flight of stairs.

Jeremy looked horrified as his eyes fell upon the mass of dead bodies that littered the floor. He was still very young for a wizard, and he wasn't used to seeing such grisly scenes of death and destruction.

"Looks like someone 'as already been down this way," said Scabior, stepping over a headless corpse as he continued on his way. He was then forced to come to an abrupt halt when the corridor ended in a twenty foot drop. The staircase leading down into the next room had collapsed, creating a dead end with nothing ahead but a long fall into the room below.

Scabior crept over to the edge of the staircase, and saw two familiar figures huddled together on the floor below. He had found Violet and Ranca, and from the looks of things neither one of them was still alive and breathing.

Scabior tried calling Violet's name, but the fallen Snatcher didn't respond. He looked for a way to reach her, and noticed the remains of the collapsed staircase far below the shattered floor. He took a moment to gauge the distance between him and the floor, then leapt over the edge, landing in the rubble and climbing down the broken stairs until he reached the bottom. He then ran towards her, falling to his knees as he held her in his arms and tried calling her name again, hoping and praying that she was still alive.

"Violet," he cried, cradling her head against his chest as his arms closed around her. The hair on the back of her head was matted with fresh blood, and her left arm was bent at an odd angle at her side. Her was certain she must be injured, but he didn't know the extent of her injuries.

Scabior pointed his wand at her chest, holding it directly over her heart.

_"Rennervate!"_

There was a flash of red light, followed by a long, silent pause. Scabior waited to see if she would respond, his heart racing in his chest as each second lingered for what felt like an eternity.

"Violet?"

Silence.

"No... No, no, no!  _Rennervate!"_

Another flash, followed by silence. And then her eyelids slowly fluttered open.

"Violet! Dear Merlin!" Scabior felt tears come to his eyes as relief washed over him. Then suddenly she gasped, her breathing ragged and shallow, as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. "Wha's wrong? Tell me wha 'urts."

"My arm," she whimpered. "I think it's broken... And my ribs... I can't... I can't breathe..."

"Don't worry, love. Everything is going to be alright. I'm 'ere now. I'll take care of you."

As Scabior set about mending Violet's injuries, Jeremy was slowly making his way down the shattered remains of the staircase. He reached the ground below just as Scabior finished healing Violet's arm, then sprinted across the room while Scabior worked on repairing her shattered ribs. It didn't take him long to discover that Ranca was no longer with them.

"He's dead..." Jeremy whispered. "Ranca's dead, Scabior."

Scabior looked up and saw that Jeremy's eyes were filled with tears. He wanted to say something, anything that might help comfort him. Jeremy and Ranca were family, and as he watched Jeremy dissolved into tears, falling across his cousin's body as he wept.

"He died trying to protect me," said Violet, now fighting back tears of her own. She grabbed a handful of Scabior's jacket, blinking back tears as she gazed into his eyes. "He...he gave his life to save me..."

Jeremy continued to sob into Ranca's chest. Violet clutched Scabior's jacket, clinging to him as she too began to cry. Time seemed to grind to a halt, and that's when Scabior heard him. That's when everyone, both inside and outside the castle walls, heard his voice, that high, cold, cruel voice of Lord Voldemort, invading the sanctity of their thoughts as he spoke to them directly in their minds.

The Dark Lord spoke, commanding his followers to retreat at once, allowing them one hour to dispose of their dead with dignity while he waited for Harry Potter in the Forbidden Forest.

"Come on then," said Scabior. He placed a hand on Jeremy's shoulder. "We need to go. The Dark Lord 'as ordered us to retreat."

"I'm not leaving him here!" Jeremy sobbed.

"Then we'll take 'im with us. We've been given an 'our to dispose of our dead with dignity, an tha is wha we'll do."

"Violet?"

The three of them looked up as a voice called out from above, and saw a witch with auburn hair looking down at them.

Violet stood up slowly, staring at the young witch. "Heather?"

Scabior looked from Violet to Heather then back to Violet. He was right. That woman really was Violet's sister.

Violet started to walk towards her, when Heather took a step back and said, "What are you doing with him?" She was pointing at Scabior when she spoke.

"What? You mean Scabior?" Violet had been living with the Snatchers for so long she thought nothing of being involved with Voldemort's followers, especially since she knew that Scabior and his men weren't as bad as everyone thought they were.

"Scabior?" Heather took another step back, feeling horrified and repulsed by the sight of them together. "But he's the leader of the Snatchers! We support the Order, remember? You aren't supposed to be with him! You're even dressed like him!"

"Is that where you've been all this time? Did you run away and join the Order of the Phoenix?"

"At least I didn't run away and join the Snatchers." Heather turned on heel and started down the corridor without a single backwards glance in her sister's direction.

"Heather, wait!" Violet called out, running towards her sister. "Where are you going? Come back!"

No, this wasn't happening. Heather didn't just turn and walk away from her. Not after all this time. Not after months of worrying and wondering where she was. It couldn't end like this. It couldn't be. It just wasn't possible.

"Heather, please!" Violet cried, now starting to climb the collapsed staircase. "Heather!" She slipped while she was climbing up the staircase, the stones crumbling beneath her as she started to fall. But before she could hit the floor, Scabior was up and running, catching her as she fell backwards.

Heather could hear Violet crying, screaming and sobbing as she called her name, followed by a sudden yelp then silence. She paused, hesitating as she debated about whether or not she should go back. Slowly she turned, walking back to the end of the corridor and peering over the edge, where she saw Scabior with Violet in his arms.

She frowned and shook her head. "Look at you. Both of you. You can't expect me to talk to you after this."

"But you don't understand!" Violet insisted. "Scabior is - "

"I'd rather not hear about Scabior," Heather spat in annoyance. "Just don't." And that time she really did walk away, leaving her sister in the arms of a Snatcher as stormed off down the hall and disappeared from sight.

Violet was quiet for a long time after that, staring at the empty hall in silence. Both her heart and mind had gone into shock, and a pain that was far too deep for words had rendered her incapable of speaking. She wasn't aware of herself or her surroundings, her thoughts evaporating in a numb haze, her senses withering in disbelief. She didn't feel Scabior carrying her out of the castle, didn't hear the footsteps echo on cold stone as Jeremy followed them, carrying his cousin's body as they left the ruined halls of Hogwarts.

It was as though she had become detached from her physical body, watching everything pass like pictures in a book, so distant, so very far away. Silent tears continued to spill down her cheeks, as Scabior emerged from the castle into the cold night air. This pain she felt was like having her heart torn from her chest, leaving behind a gaping hole, raw with ragged edges, that was hemorrhaging blood into her lungs. Her chest was tight, and it was getting hard to breathe. She felt as though she would surely die, suffocating as blood filled her lungs, and she lifted her arm, wrapping it around Scabior as she sought comfort from the only thing she had left in this world, something that would lift her up and keep her from drowning.

"It's alright, love," Scabior murmured. "It's almost over now. An if we're lucky, we may be going 'ome soon."

\----------------

Scabior and Jeremy buried Ranca down by the lake, covering the grave with a pile of rocks and driftwood worn smooth by the ebb and flow of the water. They didn't write his name on the rock they used as a headstone. They feared that if anyone knew a Snatcher was buried here their friend wouldn't be allowed to rest in peace, alone and undisturbed. So instead of leaving behind a name, Jeremy settled for using his magic to inscribe the words "forever loved, never forgotten" on his cousin's headstone, followed by a heart with a small cross inside of it.

The sun was rising now, causing the surface of the lake to glimmer and sparkle as the wind gently caressed the waves. But the pale rays of light did nothing to dispel the lingering feeling of grief. There was no warmth in the sun, no healing and renewal that the first light of a new day usually brings.

"This is the perfect place for 'im," said Scabior. He sat down on the rocks that were scattered across the shoreline, with Violet sitting beside him, watching the light reflect off the distant waves. "Me an Jeremy spent many evenings with Ranca during our school years, whiling away the 'ours at the lake when we should 'ave been studying. We were close friends, me an 'im..." Scabior's voice trailed off as he gazed out at the water, and the next several minutes passed in silence.

Violet wrapped her arms around her legs, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Do you think it's over?" she asked.

Scabior sighed heavily. "I don't know, pet. But we should probably be 'eading back there soon."

"And what happens if the Dark Lord is defeated? What then, Scabior?"

"I don't know the answer to tha either. Probably just run, I suppose. We run an don't look back...an 'ope tha someday it'll be safe to return to our world."

\-------------------

The Dark Lord had fallen and the war had ended. There had been more fighting when it was discovered that Harry Potter was still alive, and Violet cringed, knowing that her sister was still out there somewhere. She had no way of knowing if Heather was dead or alive. For all she knew she could have perished during the final moments of the war.

Three weeks later...

Violet, Scabior, Jeremy and Silis were camped out in the secluded orchard by the lake where Scabior and Violet had gone during the war. The four of them were all that was left now that Morvin and Ranca had passed away, and Greyback had left for parts unknown, returning to the wild with his pack of werewolves.

The atmosphere was quiet and sullen. Things had changed. The world had moved on without them, taking with it family, friends, and loved ones who had either died or forsaken them during the war. All they had left was each other, but at least they were still together.

While they were sitting around the camp fire, an owl flew overhead, hooting to get their attention as it swooped down low, dropping a small roll of parchment in Violet's lap before continuing on its way.

Violet was confused. She wasn't expecting mail from anyone. She unrolled the scrap of parchment, and this is what it said.

_I'm alive, just in case you were wondering._

_Heather_

* * *

_To be continued in Pieces of Gold..._


End file.
